


Little White Lies

by orphan_account



Series: Little White Lies [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was no secret Enjolras had a special talent for words. Even his most vicious opponents would admit that the golden-haired law student could weave sentences together in a way that would have all but the most stubborn naysayers catching themselves nodding along without meaning to. It served him well on his trial advocacy and moot court teams, and it would serve him well once he graduated from law school as well.</p><p>It struck him as odd, then, that no one in his personal life ever called the honesty of his words into question. No one ever saw through any of his words.</p><p>No one except Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, deals with an abusive relationship and could be potentially triggering.
> 
> Also, be kind. It's my first foray into the fanfiction writing realm since a bad experience about a year ago. Also, I know that Enjolras' characterization probably feels weird right now, but I promise there's a reason and there's this whole backstory that I promise will be revealed.

It was no secret Enjolras had a special talent for words. Even his most vicious opponents would admit that the golden-haired law student could weave sentences together in a way that would have all but the most stubborn naysayers catching themselves nodding along without meaning to. It served him well on his trial advocacy and moot court teams, and it would serve him well once he graduated from law school as well.

It struck him as odd, then, that no one in his personal life ever called the honesty of his words into question.

Not that he wanted his friends to ever doubt the sincerity of his words to them. He would never lie to them about anything truly important. In fact, he always strove to be as painstakingly honest to them about even the smallest things. Sometimes, he came across harsh in his truthfulness, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone with his words.

Being honest in all other aspects made the small lies he occasionally told okay. It wasn’t as if they hurt other people. The truth wasn’t all that important anyway. And he was careful enough that nobody ever even knew they were lies. Most of his friends never questioned what he told them. No one ever saw through any of his words.

No one except Grantaire.

#

He smiled contentedly as he settled down on Marius and Cosette’s couch and looked around at all his friends. Admittedly, when Courfeyrac first invited him for the game/movie night at the Pontmercys—well, more demanded his attendance than invited—he had been reluctant to agree. He never quite knew what Aiden’s mood would be like, especially on a Friday night, so he hadn’t wanted to commit too soon. Fortunately, Aiden’s company sent him on a conference in New York this weekend, which both left Enjolras free and put Aiden in a good mood in the preceding week.

And Aiden in a good mood meant that Enjolras did not have to worry about his appearance that night, which was a mercy because his friends may not see through his words, but their sharp eyes would not miss the shadow of a bruise or the stiffness that came with attempting to hide a limp.

Nights with his friends were rare for him nowadays. He didn’t want to ruin his time with them with his own petty problems.

It was probably surprising on some level how many of them stayed in the Boston area even after graduating from college. They all felt, though, that fate had somehow brought them together despite the different circles most of them traveled in, and they had become a rather codependent family. By the time they had graduated, no one was really willing to give that up in favor of career options outside of Boston.

“Grantaire!” he heard Cosette exclaim from the door. “Wonderful! You’re the last to arrive.”

“My apologies, dear mademoiselle,” came the cheery reply. “But Jehan ordered me to bring Apples to Apples, and I had to go on a daring quest through my house in order to find it in order to escape his wrath.”

The jovial voice made his heart skip a beat, and he was reminded as he struggled to breathe naturally when Grantaire walked in and those mirthful blue eyes met his that it wasn’t just Aiden that kept him away from the regular gatherings of his friends.

“Apollo!” Grantaire cried in exaggerated shock. “Do my eyes deceive me? Has the sun god himself finally descended from the hallowed halls of Harvard Law and deigned to sit among us mortals?”

Enjolras flushed in anger and shame, because though he had been neglecting his friends for far too long, Grantaire did not have to point it out so bluntly when he didn’t know the entire situation.

The anger left him at that thought, though, because it was his own fault that no one knew the entire situation.

“It’s not that I don’t want to come around more often,” he replied smoothly, sending a sheepish smile around the room. “Law school has taken up more of my time than I thought it would this past year. Though now that summer has started, I should have more free time now that I only have to focus on my work with Judge Valjean.”

Cosette beamed at him at that, causing him to smile at her in return. He had not originally wanted to apply to the federal judge because he hadn’t wanted to use his friendship with Cosette to get a summer position, but Jean Valjean was a man that Enjolras personally respected very much. As an openly gay man who had married his long-time partner as soon as same-sex marriage was legalized in Massachusetts, he was bound to be a role model for Enjolras, but his fairness on the bench coupled with his overwhelming generosity and quiet understanding in all other aspects of his life gave the idealist within him hope that maybe the world could be better, if more people were like Jean Valjean.

Unfortunately, Enjolras now knew that there were also people like Aiden out there, whose only purpose seemed to be to crush the hopes of others.

He was pulled from his thoughts by body plopping down without warning onto the cushion beside him and an arm being thrown about his shoulders. He looked over to the owner of the arm and Courfeyrac grinned merrily at him, holding up a bowl of popcorn like a prize.

“Well, we will have to make the most of this summer then!” he cried, causing Combeferre to shake his head fondly as he took the seat on Courfeyrac’s other side. “I mean it!” he said, jerking the bowl towards Enjolras emphatically, causing a few kernels to fly into his lap. “We will accept no excuses from you this summer. We will have very good information on your boss’s work schedule so you can’t hide behind work, and your boyfriend will just have to deal with sharing you with us. We’ve been worried about you, E.”

Aiden didn’t share well, Enjolras thought with an internal shudder. Outwardly, he rolled his eyes at Courfeyrac’s antics. “I have been perfectly well, thank you, but the sentiment is appreciated. And I will try to make a better effort at being around this summer.”

“Good,” Jehan declared with a deceptively sweet smile that told Enjolras that the little poet wouldn’t accept anything but the most serious excuses this summer. “Now Grantaire,” he said, leaning further into Bahorel, “why don’t you deal us our red cards as Eponine turns on the movie?”

“So bossy,” Grantaire groused but complied anyway, settling down on the floor near Enjolras’ feet and dealing as Eponine rose gracefully from Feuilly’s lap and started _The Princess Bride_. Movie and game nights were always combined with them because none of them really had the attention span to really focus on a movie, with some exceptions because there were some movies even Courfeyrac had to give his full attention to, and because many of them were to competitive to have a game night without something else to distract them.

He frowned thoughtfully as he watched Eponine opt to sit on the floor and lean against Feuilly’s legs rather than drape herself across his lap for the game. Those two getting together in junior year was not so much a surprise as a relief. Eponine had not come from a good home, and had attached herself to a sophomore named Montparnasse her freshman year that came from a similar background. None of them really liked the way that he had treated her so it came as a supreme relief that she ditched him at the end of her sophomore year. When she had gotten together with Feuilly, steady, hardworking, loving Feuilly, well, they all knew that it was going to last.

He tried very hard not to thinking about the similarities between his life and Eponine’s. His story, after all, didn’t have nearly as happy an ending.

Instead, his gaze shifted to the other couples in the room. Joly and Bossuet were really just a natural fit. Joly’s tendency to assume the worst in medical situations would have driven anyone else crazy with him worrying about typhoid fever at the first sign of a cough, but with Bossuet’s unfortunate luck, he found it nice to know that things were not nearly as bad as they be.

Bahorel and Jehan had danced around each other so much that even Enjolras, bad as he was at discerning the emotions of others, was ready to lock them in a closet come senior year. Luckily, they got their act together before it came to that.

Marius and Cosette was a story of cavity-inducing sweetness and love at first sight and badly written spontaneous poetry about her golden hair that Courfeyrac complained about endlessly because he had the misfortune of being Marius’ roommate freshman year. Though that did give him the privilege of seeing the quite hilarious look on Marius’ face when he came back from meeting Cosette’s parents. Valjean might not have been so bad, but her other father, Captain Javert of the Boston PD, was apparently terrifying.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac had come as a surprise to him. How he missed his two best friends falling in love, he’ll never understand. He would like to think that if he hadn’t been so busy trying to conceal certain aspects of his own relationship, he might have noticed more, but he didn’t really think so. If the past five years had taught him anything, it was that he was painfully inept at determining what other people were feeling.

Maybe if he were, he would not have ended up with the mess that was his life.

He spared a glance at Grantaire, who was now counting the cards in his to ensure he had dealt the correct number. He had often wondered if fate had meant for them to be together. It seemed odd that they were the only two not involved with someone else in their ragtag group of friends.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking on Enjolras’ part. He had just started dating Aiden when he met Grantaire. By the time he realized the reason why Grantaire frustrated him so much was because he felt something deeper than friendship for the other man, he had already celebrated his one year anniversary with Aiden and was finally preparing, with Aiden’s support, to come out to his parents. He promptly buried those feelings deep within himself and focused on being a loving, _loyal_ boyfriend.

The first time Aiden hit him, his mind flew to thoughts of Grantaire but he had shaken them away, not seeing a need to bother anyone else with his minor relationship issues.

The first time he lied to Combeferre, telling him he couldn’t make a planned outing with their friends because his computer had crashed and he had lost his paper that was due the next day, he knew that it was too late. He had sobbed as he lay on the living room carpet in the apartment he shared with Aiden, in far too much pain to move.

It was too late because no one would ever want someone as stupid and pathetic has he had allowed himself to become. Grantaire definitely deserved better.

Grantaire flipped over a green Apple card with a flourish. “Pathetic,” he announced with a smirk.

 _My Life_ , a card in his hand read, causing his heart to clench painfully. He frowned and willed his maudlin thoughts away. No, his life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t all bad. And he finally had a night to spend with his friends, no, his _family_. He could be happy. He _would_ be happy.

Forcing himself to smile and act normally, he bypassed the _My Life_ card and played a card that read _Adam Sandler_ instead.

Of course, when he noticed a pair of blue eyes watching him surreptitiously, acting normal became ten times harder as he overanalyzed every word he said.

Grantaire always did know how to see through his words, which was both one of the things that made Enjolras fall for him and one of the things he feared the most.

Despite the scrutiny-induced hyperawareness, he managed to relax enough to enjoy himself. It didn’t hurt that halfway through the game, just as Buttercup was realizing that the Dread Pirate Roberts was actually Wesley in disguise, Grantaire had shifted closer and brushed against his legs in an attempt to reach the deck of red cards and had never quite shifted away. Though this made him hyperaware in a completely different way, it was most definitely not unpleasant.

Once the movie was over and a game of Phase 10 was in full-swing, Grantaire was fully leaning against his legs, causing him to have to nearly have to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out to play with the black curls brushing against his thigh.

It wasn’t until he had finished his fifth phase that he realized it was already after one in the morning. He fought to control his reaction, but he must have stiffened involuntarily because Grantaire shot him a concerned look. A quick look to his left revealed that luckily neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac had noticed, as they were playfully bickering about the last hand.

Relieved, he gave Grantaire a small smile and shook his head, hopefully communicating that it was nothing to worry about. Thankfully, Jehan managed to finish his tenth and final phase that round and they all seemed to come to the consensus that the night had reached its natural conclusion.

“You know you’re getting old when you’re calling it a night at 1:30,” Bahorel said mournfully.

Jehan smiled prettily at him and looped an arm around his waist. “Just because we’re going home doesn’t mean the night is over,” he pointed out serenely, causing Bahorel’s regretful expression to change into a promising leer.

“On that note, I believe I will take my leave,” Enjolras said quickly, knowing it came off as teasing and not as though he wanted to be gone before everyone else began trickling out. “Cosette, Marius, thank you for having me.”

“Anytime,” Cosette answered. “And you will come around more often now that it is summer,” she continued in a sweet tone that belied the almost threatening look in her eyes.

“He’ll keep his promise, Cosette,” Courfeyrac said. “After all, Enjolras is a man of his word.”

He did not flinch at that, though it was a near thing, and quickly said his goodbyes and head towards the door. He was just stepping outside as he heard Grantaire call after him.

“Wait, Apollo, I’ll walk you out,” he said, crowding him out the door. “You have left me alone with all the sappy couples for nearly a year now. I will not let you do it again.”

Enjolras could not stop his chuckle as Grantaire shut the door of the Pontmercy townhouse. He sobered though, at the artist’s next words.

“So, which way are you?” he asked, obviously assuming that Enjolras had driven in from Cambridge.

“Actually, I, uh, took the subway in. I was going to catch a cab back,” he explained, not wanting to explain that he no longer had a car and definitely not thinking about how much a cab was going to cost.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll give you a ride.”

Enjolras bit his lip. He didn’t want to inconvenience Grantaire, but his money had to go a lot further now that school was over. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said finally.

“I don’t mind,” he said softly, blue eyes meeting his and making his think that they were talking about more than just the ride home.

Something tried to break within him at the words but he held himself together and simply nodded in agreement, unsure if he’d be able to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. God, one night with his friends and he was already ready to come clean. How the hell would he be able to last the rest of the summer?

He wordlessly followed Grantaire but frowned as he stopped in front of a green SUV.

“What happened to the Punch Buggy?” he asked. The Punch Buggy was the name everyone had called Grantaire’s old 1956 blue Volkswagen Beetle. The nickname was obvious, but Grantaire thought it was hilarious because it was often filled with booze.

Grantaire shrugged. “Finally gave out,” he said, unlocking the doors and gesturing for Enjolras to get in. “Needed a new ride anyway. Some of my pieces were too large to fit in it. That’s why I got the SUV. Don’t worry, though, it’s a hybrid. Now buckle up. Would hate for anything to happen to you. Combeferre would kill me,” he said with a grin as he buckled his own seatbelt.

Enjolras rolled his eyes but complied, feeling sick on the inside. What else had he missed in his self-imposed exile in Cambridge? He knew that any major changes would have generated at least a text message to him, but what about the little things that made all of his friends who they were? Did Bahorel still fight in those awful MMA fights? Did Joly still carry hand sanitizer in his pocket? Did Courfeyrac still read sappy Nicholas Sparks books when he was stressed? God, what if everyone had changed and he just didn’t know it yet? What if they all eventually moved on from him?

What if he became the Punch Buggy?

Before he could work himself into a panic, Grantaire’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, kicking himself for not being aware of his reactions. What was wrong with him?

Grantaire sighed. “Listen, I know you and I haven’t gotten along great in the past—”

“That’s not true!” Enjolras interrupted, not backing down when he received a disbelieving look. “It’s not. I mean, I know we’ve had our differences and most of our conversations have ended with us agreeing to disagree, but I’ve always considered you one of my closest friends.”

He felt guilty for Grantaire ever doubting that because it was his fault. He was the one who had tried to distance himself from the artist, choosing Aiden over Grantaire because he was afraid of rejection. And Aiden had seemed so different then…

Or maybe he was just more naïve.

“Well, as your close friend, I just want you to know that we are worried about you. _I_ am worried about you,” he replied, glancing over at Enjolras before turning his eyes back to the road. “I know school can’t be the only reason you’ve been avoiding us.”

“I haven’t been—”

“Yes, you have,” he said with a stern look. This was a side of Grantaire he had rarely seen before. He had seen it when Montparnasse had come looking for Eponine one night when they were all out together, and he had seen it when a group of jocks were giving Jehan a hard time on campus.

It was weird that its display now made him feel both safer and more afraid.

“The others may buy your excuses, even Combeferre and Courfeyrac, because they know how focused you are, know how dedicated you are to your education, but I know you are much more dedicated to your friends and I _know_ there has to be another reason for why you’re choosing to stay away. Now,” he said, pulling the car over and putting it in park, “are you going to just tell me or do I need to guess?”

Enjolras dimly noticed they had already reached his apartment complex in Cambridge, absently wondering at how long he must have spaced out on the ride over and also marveling that Grantaire had actually remembered where he lived. None of those thoughts, though, were helping him figure out what to tell the man, who seemed perfectly content to wait all night for him to answer.

“And what would your guess since you seem to have all the answers?” he asked finally, wincing at how defensive he sounded.

Grantaire gave him a sad smile. “I think you finally figured out how stupidly in love with you I’ve been since the first time we met. And I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I know after Combeferre and Courfeyrac got together, you and I were kinda forced together sometimes because of the incestuous tendencies in our little family. I want you to know that I made peace with my feelings a long time ago. I know you’re happy with Aiden and I would never jeopardize that for you. Please don’t let that keep you away from everyone else who loves you though.”

Enjolras felt as if someone had sucked the air out of the entire car and filled his ears with cotton. If he had been listening properly, he probably would have realized that it would have been a great excuse to adopt, one which would ensure that Grantaire never questioned him again. Of course, he would then probably realize that it was also the surest way to break the artist’s heart.

He didn’t have time for these realizations, though, because his shock must have been obvious on his face.

“You didn’t know,” Grantaire said in a pained voice.

He closed his eyes, fighting back tears, and shook his head.

“Shit, E, I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s fine,” he said, not looking at him and fumbling for the door. He managed to get it open and went to dash out of the car, but his seatbelt was still held him firmly in place.

“Enjolras…”

“No, I’m sorry, I just have to go,” he pleaded, not looking up as he desperately tried to unbuckle himself but for some reason couldn’t get his hands to function properly. One of Grantaire’s hands reached out to steady his own while the other gently released the seatbelt from its buckle.

He slowly raised his head so that his tear-filled eyes met Grantaire’s steady blue ones. He swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

He then exited the car as quickly and calmly as he could, reaching the door to his apartment in a blur and managed to fumble with his eyes enough to open the door.

As soon as he was on the other side, his knees buckled beneath him, and he curled up in a ball on his welcome mat and sobbed.

Tbc…


	2. Chapter Two

His entire body was sore when he woke up in the same position the next morning. He winced as he slowly uncurled his body and stood, his neck cracking as he straightened it.

He had let his emotions get the better of him last night. He had managed to keep himself under control for nine months. One night with his friends, though, and he was falling apart.

One night with Grantaire, who had apparently been in love with him the entire time he knew him.

He had his phone out calling Combeferre before he even knew what he was doing. It didn’t matter, he decided as he listened to the phone ring. It didn’t matter.

But he still had to know.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre answered, surprise coloring his voice. The surprise hurt. There was a time when he and Combeferre talked all the time, a time when he could call at 3:30 in the morning and it seemed perfectly ordinary.

Now Combeferre was surprised when he called at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“Is something wrong?”

“Did you know Grantaire was in love with me?” he asked, getting straight to the point, both for the sake of normalcy and because if he stayed on the phone too long, he might break down again.

A sigh came from the other end of the phone. “How did you find out?”

“He told me last night on the way home,” he said impatiently. “How long have you known?”

“My God, Enjolras, it was always obvious! Everybody knew. I’m pretty sure even Aiden knew, what with how possessive he always was whenever the two of you went out with us.”

“Everybody?” he repeated faintly. “If it were so obvious, why didn’t I ever see it?” he asked in a stronger voice.

“Enjolras, you’ve never been very good at discerning the emotions of others unless they’re spelled out for you. And Grantaire probably tried to hide it as much as possible to your face, considering you have been dating Aiden since the two of you met and you knowing his feelings wouldn’t have changed anything.” Combeferre paused there before hesitantly asking, “This doesn’t change things, does it?”

It might have, before… Well, just before, but now, there was nothing to be done.

“No, of course not,” he said. “There isn’t anything else I’ve missed, is there? Nothing that is obvious to everyone but me?” He bit his lip as he awaited Combeferre’s answer. He knew he was bad emotions. Hell, if he hadn’t been, maybe his life wouldn’t be the mess it was now.

There was a long pause before Combeferre replied, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve managed to catch how worried you’ve made us ever since you started law school.”

Enjolras winced. “Grantaire did mention that everyone was a little concerned, but there’s no need! I’ve just been busy!” he insisted.

“You missed Christmas! You could not have been busy with school over Christmas.”

“We had exams after break! And then there were journal tryouts. ‘Ferre, you know I wouldn’t have missed Christmas if I didn’t have to!” he said, not lying really. There were exams after break and he did have journal tryouts, but the real reason he didn’t go for Christmas was that he was still recovering from the week before, when Aiden had had a little too much to drink at his company’s Christmas party.

Alcohol didn’t make Aiden violent, well, no more than usual, but it did make him forget to avoid hitting Enjolras’ face.

“I know you wouldn’t, E, I do. I’m just worried that there’s something more that you aren’t telling us. And that scares me because you used to tell me everything.”

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell Combeferre everything. He wanted to come completely clean, have someone else help him fix his life, wanted calm and steady Combeferre to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t drag Combeferre or anyone else into this. He had to deal with it himself.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to tell. I will try to be around more, though,” he promised, knowing it would be difficult to follow through but willing to try to set his friends’ minds at ease.

“Hmm, you better, or I’m letting Courfeyrac have free rein over your punishment,” he replied, shifting the mood to something a bit lighter.

Enjolras smiled. “I’ll remember that. Goodbye, Combeferre.”

“Goodbye, E.”

He slipped his phone in his pocket as he padded quietly to the kitchen, frowning when he got there and realized there was no point. He had finished off the last of his bargain brand instant coffee yesterday. He eyed Aiden’s Keurig machine thoughtfully, but knew that a fix of caffeine was not worth the pain that came with touching any of Aiden’s things. He contemplated breakfast briefly, but decided he wasn’t hungry enough to waste any of the food he still had. He only had twenty dollars that was meant to last until Friday, and with the shelf set aside for his food scarcely stocked, he would probably need to make it last.

Thank God Grantaire had offered him a ride last night, no matter how disastrous it had ended.

He wasn’t an idiot. He realized _how_ he had gotten into this situation. He even understood perfectly what this situation was.

He was a victim in an abusive relationship.

God, he must have been such an _easy_ target, he thought bitterly. Victims of childhood abuse usually were.

That didn’t matter though. He had to stop being so emotional about this and focus on his plan.

Because he _did_ have a plan.

He knew that he could not remain in this relationship. Knew that the first time Aiden hadn’t stopped at just one blow. Maybe it was stupid to wait that long, but he didn’t think that a slap here or a punch there was much to worry about. Apparently, he had been wrong.

He had done a lot of covert research on domestic violence after that. He determinedly swallowed the seemingly all-encompassing _fear_ he seemed to always feel and sought to understand his situation better.

It was pretty pathetic that it took _research_ to make him realize that his relationship had been unhealthy for its entire duration. The emotional manipulation, the mind games, the subtle threats, all of the signs were there and he wasn’t sure how he missed them.

And the sexual stuff… God, he had locked himself in a bathroom in the library and cried for an hour when he had read about the sexual abuse common in his type of relationships. All that time he had spent thinking the reason he didn’t enjoy sex all that much was because there was something wrong with _him_ … How could he have known? Aiden had been his first.

Even Aiden’s support of him when he came out to his parents sophomore year had been due to an ulterior motive. He had wanted Enjolras isolated from his family, cut off from anyone who could see what was going on and help him.

It took him the remaining two years of Enjolras’ undergraduate career to realize that his friends were more his family than his parents ever were. And then Enjolras had handed him the solution on a fucking silver platter.

Law school was perfect for Aiden, really. For one, it gave Enjolras the perfect excuse to pull away from his friends when he was hurt and didn’t want to burden them. He knew he had a tendency to do that. Even if most of his injuries hadn’t been caused by Aiden, he wouldn’t want to bother his friends about them. They always turned into mother-hens when he was sick or injured.

Now he wondered if part of his behavior wasn’t due to Aiden’s complaining about their hovering whenever they used to drop by when he was sick.

For two, it meant that Enjolras could not get a job, as law school was just too much of a full time gig. That wasn’t a problem for most students, as they either lived off their parents’ money, not an option for him because his parents disowned them once he came out, or lived off loan money, which had been his plan, which unfortunately Aiden knew.

Enjolras knew what his fatal mistake was—that damn joint checking account.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. They had been living together since Aiden had graduated and they had been sharing expenses anyway. It was perfectly logical to combine their accounts once Enjolras graduated. Thus, all of his loan money was deposited into their joint account.

And then Aiden promptly transferred it to his own account.

Which meant that even though Enjolras had wised up and realized what kind of relationship he was in, Aiden already had all the control. And even though he could recognize the other methods Aiden used to control him, he really couldn’t get away as long as he controlled the money.

Well, he _could_ have gone to his friends. He knew they’d help him. But he couldn’t be a burden on them and he would not put them in danger. Leaving Aiden was going to be dangerous enough.

Most DV victims who died were killed as they tried to leave or after they had already left.

He had to wait of the right time. He had to _somehow_ open a checking account in his own name without Aiden finding out and make sure that his next loan check was deposited in that account. Then he had to wait for a weekend where Aiden was gone and sneak away as quietly as possible, get his own place, change his number, and pray Aiden stayed away from the law school.

His friends didn’t even really need to know.

His textone interrupted any further thoughts. He inhaled sharply as he saw it was from Grantaire.

_We should talk. Lunch?_

He chewed his lip thoughtfully. He really doubted that Grantaire would take no as an answer, not after last night, but he had absolutely no idea what to say to the artist. “Sorry, I’ve been in love with you for forever too, but my abusive boyfriend would probably kill both of us if I tried to leave him for you” wasn’t really something you could say to someone if your purpose was to ease their mind.

He settled for a truth that wasn’t quite so inflammatory. _Sorry, can’t. I’m on a pretty tight budget._

_My treat_ , came the immediate response, followed closely by a second text. _I insist. Meet me at noon at the café on the corner of your street_.

He sighed. There was no way to get out of it now. _Ok._

#

Grantaire was already waiting for him at a table when he arrived, with a Reuben in front of himself and a grilled chicken Caesar salad and iced tea that was obviously meant for Enjolras.

He had forgotten just how well Grantaire knew him. It really shouldn’t have been surprising to learn he was in love with him. Why did he always miss the obvious things?

“Thank you for lunch,” he said honestly, sitting down and sending him a smile. It was nice to not have to worry about his food for that day. Things had gotten worse with the conclusion of the semester. There was always free food to be found around the law school. Now that summer had started, he had to make do with what he could afford.

“No problem,” Grantaire replied with a shrug. “Money problems?”

Why did he always have to ask the hard questions?

“Just have to stretch things as far as they can go,” he answered, being as vague as possible. “My summer job is not a paid position and loan money only goes so far.”

“Doesn’t Aiden work as some hotshot market analyst? Surely he makes enough to support you two for a little while?”

Enjolras avoided his eyes as he picked at his salad. “I don’t want to be a burden on him.”

“You’re never a burden on those that love you,” Grantaire said seriously. “And that has to be true because Eponine, Combeferre, and Jehan all beat it into my skull last year when I was going through withdrawal.”

“You stopped drinking?” he asked, finally looking up and meeting the artist’s eyes.

“It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been sober for nearly seven months now. You’d know that if you were around more often,” he pointed out, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Enjolras closed his eyes. “I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

“Hey,” Grantaire said softly, causing him to reopen his eyes. “What’s really going on? I’m sorry for freaking you out last night by throwing my feelings at you when you’re obviously dealing with something else, but why won’t you let us in? I mean, after last night, yeah, sure, you’re probably not jumping at the chance to confide in me, but you can’t close yourself off from your friends like you’ve been doing and think that we don’t know that something else is going on. What is it?”

“Don’t apologize for last night,” he said, taking a bite of his salad to stall for some time. “That was mostly my fault. And it’s not that I don’t want to confide in you, it’s just that…” he trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

“Just that?” Grantaire prompted.

“This is something I have to do on my own,” Enjolras said finally, choosing his words carefully. “And if I told any of you, you wouldn’t let me. Please trust me when I say that I have things under control.”

Grantaire stared at him for a few uncomfortable moments before finally nodding slowly. “Okay, but only if you promise to let one of us know the second things turn sour and you need help.”

Enjolras nodded. “I promise,” he said. And he would.

He and Grantaire probably differed on what things going sour really meant though.

Tbc…


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious trigger warnings for this chapter. Read the warning tags, people. If you're bothered by it, it's all at the end so you can easily skip it.

He went straight to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s place after he left lunch with Enjolras for two reasons. For one, he couldn’t handle the worry eating him up from the inside. Hopefully, together, the three of them could at least try to piece together what was happening with Enjolras. The second reason, which was intrinsically intertwined with the first, as that he really wanted a drink and knew that Combeferre would give him that you’re-better-than-this look that never failed to strengthen his resolve.

He felt a slight twinge of guilt as he knocked on his friends’ door. He _had_ told Enjolras he would trust him to handle whatever he was dealing with by himself, but dammit, he loved him too much to let it alone, especially when everything inside of him was screaming that something was wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

His worry must have shown on his face because Courfeyrac let him in without a word when he opened the door. Neither of them said a word as they settled into the living room where Combeferre was already waiting for them.

“You told him you loved him,” Combeferre began, raising an eyebrow in askance.

“What?!?” Courfeyrac exclaimed before Grantaire could open his mouth. “How and when did that come up?”

He sighed. “Last night when I gave him a ride home.”

“Why did he need a ride home anyway?” Combeferre asked, puzzled.

“He took the subway in apparently,” he replied. Thinking back on it, it struck him as odd. Enjolras might not have come to many of their gatherings lately, but he knew how long they tended to run. Why would he have taken the subway?

Apparently Combeferre and Courfeyrac were having similar thoughts.

“Maybe he’s on an environmental kick,” Courfeyrac suggested.

Grantaire snorted. “If that were the case, he would have lectured me as soon as he saw my SUV. He did mention today that he was cutting back on spending. Maybe he thought the subway was a better choice economically than driving?”

“It’s not _that_ more economical,” Combeferre pointed out. “Not when you already have the car.”

“Never mind his choice of transportation. I would rather get back to why R felt the need to confess his undying love last night,” Courfeyrac said.

“I thought maybe he had figured it out, and that that was why he had stopped coming around,” he replied with a sigh. “I was very wrong because he damn-near hyperventilated when I told him and couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.”

Courfeyrac shot him an angry look. “Dammit, R, what if you drove him even further away?” he snapped.

Grantaire flinched. He deserved that. Had, in fact, been worried about that very thing before he had gone to lunch with Enjolras today.

“He didn’t,” Combeferre assured, drawing confused looks from both of them. “He called me this morning. If anything, he seemed more concerned over the fact he had completely missed how Grantaire felt than anything else.”

“He seemed upset at a lot more than that last night,” Grantaire argued. “You didn’t see him, Combeferre. It was like the whole world was crashing down on him in that moment. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t unbuckle his damn seatbelt and there were _tears_ in his eyes and he just looked so _heartbroken_... And then today at lunch, he seemed calmer but he told me it was all _his_ fault and was acting so fucking _normal_ …”

He took a steadying breath, trying to calm down. “I’ve imagined telling him thousands of time,” he continued in a shaky voice. “Never once did I imagine _that_ because it _isn’t normal_. Something is _wrong_.”

Courfeyrac was grasping Combeferre’s hand like a lifeline, looking like he was trying very hard not to cry. Combeferre swallowed, obviously trying to remain calm for the both of them and Grantaire felt instantly guilty. These two were Enjolras’ two best friends, had been there for the other man since they were teenagers and were probably worried sick about their best friend.

And instead of allowing them to comfort each other, Grantaire was sitting here demanding that they reassure _him_.

“God, I need a drink,” he muttered softly. Not softly enough, though, as Combeferre’s eyes instantly sharpened and glared at him, causing his guilt to increase.

“You will be no help to Enjolras if you fall down that rabbit hole,” he said sternly. “Did you manage to get him to admit _anything_?”

“All he told me was that it was something he had to handle on his own, and if we knew what it was, we wouldn’t let him,” Grantaire replied, trying to push his anxiety away. Combeferre was right. He wouldn’t help Enjolras if he did something stupid.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac eyed each other in apprehension, clearly thinking the same thing Grantaire had thought when Enjolras had asked him to trust him.

If Enjolras knew that they would not let him handle things on his own, then what he was doing was probably not a very safe thing for him to be doing. And he was able to recognize it, which added a whole other layer of gravity to the situation.

“Maybe we should talk to Aiden?” Courfeyrac suggested, looking to Combeferre for his opinion.

Aiden had never really fit very well with the rest of them and had avoiding hanging around them as much as possible during college. Everyone else thought it was a bit odd but were self-aware enough to recognize that they were probably a bit much for outsiders to take in large doses. He knew that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were probably friendlier with him than anyone else, as any boyfriend of Enjolras would not have been able to avoid those two, but not to the point of actually being friends with the man.

Grantaire hated him with every fiber of his being, but that was mostly jealousy talking.

Combeferre frowned. “I tried that around Christmas. He seemed just as baffled as I was. Said Enjolras was driving himself into the ground with studying and it was all he could do to get him to eat. Then he assured me not to worry and that he would take care of him.”

“You don’t think _he’s_ been keeping Enjolras away, do you?” Grantaire asked hesitantly.

“As if Enjolras would let someone keep him from doing whatever he wanted to do,” Courfeyrac said with a roll of his eyes.

“Besides, Aiden never tried to keep Enjolras away from us before,” Combeferre reasoned. “They’ve been together for nearly five years now. If Aiden were the issue, I would hope that we would have figured it out before now.”

Grantaire nodded sullenly though he didn’t actually away. He had never liked the way Aiden had treated Enjolras, but he was probably too biased to see the situation clearly. If you look hard enough for faults in a person’s behavior, you were sure to find them after all.

“He did promise that he would let us help if things got to be more than he could handle,” he said as he stood to leave, hoping to give them at least a little peace of mind.

Unfortunately, they all knew Enjolras enough to know that asking for help was something he rarely did.

#

He hummed quietly to himself as he took the wet clothes out of the washer and placed them in the dryer. He was finally done with the laundry at least. He had been cleaning ever since he got back from lunch with Grantaire.

He smiled absently as he thought of the artist, grabbing the Swiffer from the laundry room and moving into the kitchen. He sprayed a stream of cleaning fluid from the mop and continued his humming as he mopped the floor.

All things considered, lunch at gone better than he had expected. Once Grantaire had stopped questioning him, it was fun to just talk to his friend again. Or rather, he thought with a grin, to argue with him again.

Grantaire’s penchant for arguing with nearly everything he said drove him crazy when he first met the man halfway through freshman year. He hadn’t realized how much he loved it until summer came around.

That was the last summer he had spent at his parents’ house, and like most of his time spent at his parents’ house, he was mostly bored. Well, and a little lonely, but mostly bored. He mostly blamed Combeferre and Courfeyrac for that. He never remembered being bored before they befriended him in high school. Of course, that was probably because his human interaction was mostly limited to being yelled at by his mother, slapped by his father, or lectured at by his strict tutor.

So yes, he had been lonely that summer. Combeferre’s parents had taken him to Europe for the summer and Courfeyrac’s had moved to New York so he was visiting them there. And Aiden was busy with an internship back in Boston.

Really, he had texted everyone that summer. Grantaire had just been the one who had texted back most quickly. And when those texts became phone calls, well, it wasn’t his fault that verbally sparring with Grantaire made him forget how much he hated being in DC with his parents.

It wasn’t until he saw the artist two weeks after school began and had to resist the sudden urge to throw himself into Grantaire’s arms that he realized how he felt about the other man.

Those feelings had obviously not diminished any, if lunch was any indication. And when Grantaire had walked him home, it was all he could do to keep from kissing him.

God, it was amazing how Grantaire could make him forget about everything going wrong in his life.

The smile slipped from his face then and he cut his contented humming off.

What the hell was he doing?

He was deluding himself.

He didn’t have a future with Grantaire. Maybe he could have, if he had broken things off with Aiden after that summer, but he didn’t. He had chosen to stay with the boyfriend who, though he liked him a lot, he did not love. He had chosen the comfort and companionship that came with a stable relationship over gambling and ending up alone.

He hadn’t wanted to end up alone. It was kind of ironic, then, that he had never felt lonelier than he had this past year.

He wanted to strangle whoever it was that came up with the saying, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

That hadn’t really worked out so well for him.

And even if Grantaire thought he loved him, he would definitely change his mind if he realized how weak and pathetic he really was.

His phone chimed as he finished up with the floor. He propped the Swiffer against the counter. He would store it back in the laundry room once the floor dried.

He picked the phone up and saw that he had a text from Courfeyrac.

_Brunch at our place! Just us ;) 3 musketeers ride again!_

He smiled and shook his head. _You’re confusing your references, but I’ll be there_ , he typed out.

He hit the send button at the same time the door slammed open, causing his heart to leap into his throat before settling down into his stomach.

“Aiden,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You’re home early! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut once more and Aiden staggered into the room, obviously having stopped off at a bar or two on the way home.

Enjolras fought very hard not to let his fear show. If he were lucky, Aiden might just leave him alone tonight.

“I’m sorry, did I ruin your evening?” Aiden asked, looming over Enjolras suddenly, causing him to gasp involuntarily.

Aiden was an imposing man. He was taller than Enjolras and was about fifty pounds heavier. He wasn’t the best looking man in the world, but he had wavy auburn hair, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes that Enjolras had quickly gotten lost in when they first met.

“No,” he said quickly, trying to explain even though he knew that it was useless when those hazel eyes had that particular look in them. “I was just hoping to have the apartment clean—”

A slap to his face cut him off and caused him to stagger to the side. He felt the phone being snatched from his hand.

“Looks like you’ve had fun this weekend,” Aiden said in a dangerous voice. “How was your lunch with Grantaire?”

He cringed as he remembered the text from Grantaire and Combeferre’s words ran through his mind.

_“I’m pretty sure even Aiden knew.”_

His hair was gripped tightly suddenly and he was thrown roughly to the floor. He threw out his hands to break his fall but didn’t bother trying to fight Aiden off when he kicked him over onto his back.

He had tried to fight back at first. Aiden was too strong and it only made him laugh to see Enjolras’ doomed attempts to fight him off. And more amusement for Aiden meant that it lasted much longer than it would have if Enjolras just took it.

Aiden straddled him and grabbed his chin in a firm grip. “Have I not been good to you?” he asked mournfully. “Taken care of you, been there for you, _loved_ you? You would throw everything we have together away for some shitty artist?” he said more harshly, bringing his free hand up and slapping Enjolras’ face before grabbing his chin once more.

He knew there was no point in arguing with him. Knew that nothing he said would make things better and would only make things worse. _Knew_ that Aiden was only trying to manipulate him with words, either to make him guilty or just to get him to react so that he could later blame the bruises on what _Enjolras_ had said.

But he could not stop the words in Grantaire’s defense from pouring out of his lips.

“He is _not_ ‘some shitty artist,’” he spat. “He is one of the most talented people I have ever met! And—augh…”

He gasped for breath as the hand that had been on his chin began pressing into his windpipe. Tears gathered in his eyes as he struggled for breath. He could see Aiden’s snarl above him and knew that he was in more trouble than he had ever been before.

Aiden stood suddenly, grabbing a fist-full of blond curls and dragging Enjolras up with him. He tried to double over as a fist was driven into his stomach, but the tight grip on his hair kept him upright even as a second punch found his kidney.

A few more punches were peppered over his torso before his knees finally gave out from the pain and Aiden let him drop to his knees.

A kick between his shoulder blades threw him to the floor and a foot pressed him to the floor so hard that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. The pressure was released and Aiden crouched down beside him.

“I’m going to make sure that no one, not even your _talented artist_ , will _ever_ want to touch you again,” he hissed, jerking Enjolras’ sweatpants and boxers down in one move.

Terror shot through him like lightning as he was to his knees, allowing easy Aiden easy access to his entrance.

Aiden had hurt him in the past, but he had never made sex a part of it.

Of course, this wasn’t sex, he realized with a shudder a two-fingers were thrust roughly inside of him with nothing but spit to ease the way.

This was rape.

He shook that thought away. It was ridiculous. How could it be rape when he always let Aiden do what he wanted with his body?

He tried very hard not to make a sound. Tried to relax like he usually did when Aiden entered him.

He couldn’t help tensing, though, when Aiden thrust into him without warning, anymore than he could help the strangled sob it drew from his mouth.

He had given up restraining himself and was sobbing quietly by the time Aiden finished.

“Look at you,” he sneered, getting up and zipping his pants. “Pathetic.”

He left him there, pants and underwear still tangled at his feet.

He hiccupped a few times as he tried to bring his sobs under control. He reached down and winced as he pulled his pants up and curled up into a ball on the carpet.

Aiden was right.

He was pathetic.

But he knew that already.

How was he supposed to go to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s in the morning? He was in so much pain. But if he didn’t, they would come looking for him.

God, what would Aiden do if they came here?

He shuddered. No, it was better he go, he decided.

Tbc…


	4. Chapter Four

He woke before Aiden, thankfully. A quick glance at the time on the cable box told him it was 8:14. He hissed as he gingerly got to his feet and limped towards the bathroom, which unfortunately meant that he had to go through the bedroom.

He bit his lip as he carefully pushed open the bedroom door, not wanting to know what Aiden would do if he disturbed his sleep. He tip-toed to the dresser and held his breath as he slid open his drawer and fished out a change of clothes. He shifted the wrong way as he was closing it, causing pain to shoot through him and he shut the drawer a little harder than he felt safe.

He froze as he heard Aiden mumble in his sleep and was only able to breathe again once he had turned over and soft snores were coming from the bed once more.

He sagged in relief and then darted to the bathroom as quickly and as quietly as he possibly could given his current state.

He deposited his clothes are the back of the toilet and turned the shower on, stepping in carefully and hissing as the warm water hit his abused body. He washed his hair quickly before grabbing the washcloth and soaping down his body gently, wincing when that required him to bend down and pain shot through his abdomen.

He took a deep breath as the water poured over him before hesitantly bringing the washcloth to his entrance, sighing in relief when he pulled it away and there didn’t appear to be any blood.

After washing thoroughly and hopefully removing all traces of Aiden, he stepped out of the shower and dried off stiffly. Each movement caused pain to flare in different parts of his body as he slowly put his clothes on and finally he turned to the mirror, wiping off the steam in order to see if his face looked as bad as it felt.

It wasn’t awful, he decided, but only because he knew it could have been much worse. But his left cheek was very noticeably swollen and he was pretty sure it would turn purple before the day was out.

There was no way Combeferre and Courfeyrac wouldn’t notice.

Was that such a bad thing though?

He leaned heavily over the sink. He didn’t think he could do this anymore. He started his internship in two weeks. What if Aiden hurt him so badly that he couldn’t do his job? Valjean was forgiving but not that forgiving.

What if last night was just a taste of how Aiden was going to treat him from now on?

He muffled his sob with a fist, not wanting to make too much noise and cause his sleeping boyfriend to wake up. He couldn’t take another night like last night. The pain he could take. Pain faded, bruises healed. But he couldn’t handle the terror and shame that welled within him when he thought of last night.

He couldn’t rationalize those feelings away.

He needed out, which meant he needed help.

#

“How’s it coming?” he asked, peering over Combeferre’s shoulder as he expertly flipped the blueberry pancakes. He swore it was like the man was perfect at _everything_. If Courfeyrac didn’t love him so much, he’d probably hate him. And God, he never really knew how sexy a bespectacled man in an apron could look while brandishing a spatula.

“Need any help?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Combeferre’s waist and brushing his lips over a spot of skin under his ear that he knew was one of the other man’s sensitive areas.

Combeferre moaned but leaned away. “Not the kind of help you’re offering,” he replied with a smile. “Let’s not get distracted. This morning is supposed to be about Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac sighed but nodded in agreement, leaning into Combeferre as he thought about their best friend.

They’d both been up half the night worrying about him after talking with Grantaire. Courfeyrac was beyond confused over what could be going on with him. From what Grantaire had said, he had all but had a panic attack when he had learned that the artist was in love with him. What had that meant?

And what problem was he trying to handle on his own? Why was he afraid they would not allow him to handle it alone if they knew what it was? Courfeyrac could think of very few situations where they wouldn’t at least let Enjolras _try_ his way before rushing in.

And he didn’t like to think of those situations.

“He’ll be alright, Courf,” Combeferre said, sliding the last pancakes on a plate and turning around to embrace him.

“You don’t know that,” he accused. “None of us know that because he won’t _tell_ us anything.”

“No, but whatever it is, we are here for him, and he knows that,” Combeferre replied. “We have to trust him enough to know that he’d come to us if something was seriously wrong.”

He shook his head and buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck. “I don’t think I can trust him that much, ‘Ferre. Not with his own health,” he confessed quietly. “God, do you remember how his parents treated him? He thought it was normal, ‘Ferre! He wasn’t taught to care about himself! And you know how he was in college! He barely remembered to eat sometimes and would only sleep when we made him!”

“He has Aiden to take care of him,” Combeferre reminded, rubbing comforting circles in his back.

“I don’t like Aiden,” he said petulantly. “And neither do you.”

“Yes, well, neither of us is dating him,” he replied calmly. “And Aiden has always been very good about sharing Enjolras with us, which most boyfriends wouldn’t do, especially with a group as codependent as ours.”

“Until now.”

“Weren’t you the one who said that Enjolras wouldn’t let anyone keep him from doing what he wanted to do?” Combeferre asked, pulling back and looking down at him with an amused smile. “I think you’re just disappointed that Enjolras hasn’t dumped Aiden for Grantaire yet.”

Courfeyrac pouted. “They’re the only two who aren’t dating someone in the group.”

He rolled his eyes. “You and Jehan have these ridiculous notions of romance. Not everything has a perfect happy ending.”

“Marius and Cosette did. So did Eponine and Feuilly. And Bossuet and Joly. And of course Jehan and Bahorel,” he listed before looking up through his lashes shyly. “I’d like to think we did too.”

Combeferre smiled and kissed him gently. “Of course we did. But that is quite an extensive list. Maybe there are already too many fairy tale romances in our group to handle one more.”

“That is ridiculous,” he replied airily, beaming up at him. “There can never be too many fairy tale romances!”

A knock at the door interrupted anything Combeferre may have said to that.

“Must be Enjolras. I’ll get it,” Courfeyrac said, placing one last peck on his boyfriend’s lips before darting to the door.

He opened the door and the smile on his face morphed into a mask of horror.

“Oh my God, what happened?!?”

He heard Combeferre rush from the kitchen to the foyer to see what was going on, but he only had eyes for Enjolras.

“Aiden came home early and surprised me,” Enjolras replied sheepishly, not meeting either of their eyes.

“With what? His fist to your face?!?” Courfeyrac exclaimed, eyeing his swollen cheek and paling demeanor and feeling sick to his stomach.

Enjolras scrunched his face slightly before wincing as it obviously aggravated his injury. “It was just a couple of slaps.”

He heard Combeferre suck in a sharp breath behind him, which was good for him because Courfeyrac couldn’t breathe at all. He grabbed the wall next to him for support as he felt Combeferre’s arm go around his waist. He glanced over and saw his own horror reflected on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m kidding,” Enjolras said in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes and brushing past them both. “I was mopping and he opened the door and it surprised me so much I slipped and hit my face on the counter.”

Courfeyrac sagged in relief against Combeferre, who calmly shut the door. His heart was still pounding in his chest as he whirled around to follow Enjolras enter the kitchen.

“That was not funny,” he seethed, his fear transforming quickly to anger. He grabbed two of the plates Combeferre had laid out, thrusting one out for Enjolras and then piling pancakes onto his own plate.

“Not your best attempt at humor,” Combeferre agreed evenly, eyes studying Enjolras carefully. “You know we’ve been worried about you. Please don’t invent things for us fret about.”

Courfeyrac felt anxiety well within him again. Combeferre was suspicious, and Combeferre wasn’t usually wrong. He looked back at Enjolras, who was looking very guilty under their combined scrutiny.

But was he guilty because he was joking or because he was lying about joking?

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh. “I guess I haven’t been the best friend lately.”

“That’s not true,” Courfeyrac insisted, slinging his free arm around his shoulder and ushering him to a chair at the kitchen table. “We know that you _are_ a good friend, which is _why_ we’re worried. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Combeferre took the plate out of Enjolras’ hands and began piling pancakes onto it.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said.

“Stop apologizing,” Combeferre said, placing the pancake-laden plate in front of him. “We’d really rather have an explanation.”

“There isn’t really one that I haven’t already told you,” he said, picking at his pancakes. “School has just been stressful. Now that it’s over, though, I’d like to catch up all the things that I missed.”

Brunch went about as well as expected after that not-so-smooth segue. Courfeyrac tried to keep things lighthearted, because Enjolras was trying _so hard_ , but that little line between Combeferre’s eyes that appeared when he was worried gradually got deeper and deeper, causing the worry to churn within his gut.

#

Brunch seemed to drag on forever. The pain, the guilt, and the fear all seemed to grow and grow with every second that went by.

He had meant to tell them. He hadn’t meant to chicken out and pretend to be joking.

But for that second it was out there, the horrified looks on their faces was just too much.

How could he do that to them? How could he just unload his problems on them? The entire situation was his fault, after all. Why should they have to deal with the emotional backlash of his mistakes? This was his problem, not theirs. They shouldn’t suffer for it.

But he _really_ didn’t want to go home…

“Enjolras? Enjolras!” Combeferre called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he said quickly before catching sight of the time on his friend’s watch. 12:34. His breath caught in his throat. Aiden would definitely be up by now. If he wasn’t home soon, Aiden would likely not be very happy with him.

He stood quickly, gasping in pain as his injuries protested the movement. “Is that the time?” he cried, hoping his gasp came across as surprise instead. “I have to go.”

 _Please don’t let me go_.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre said, blocking his path to the door. “Stay.”

“’Ferre, I can’t,” he said, not looking up and feeling tears well in his eyes to his shame. “I have to go.”

“Why?” Courfeyrac said from behind him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and causing him to realize he was trembling. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep lying to them.

He didn’t _want_ to keep lying to them.

“If I leave now,” he admitted quietly, voice cracking as he realized saying it would make it real, “he might not be as mad.”

Tears finally fell as he was wrapped in Combeferre’s arms, with Courfeyrac’s arms reaching around to embrace him from behind.

“Don’t make me go back,” he whispered, face buried in Combeferre’s chest and ignoring the ache from his body in favor of enjoying the comfort. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

“You never have to go back,” Combeferre promised in a soothing voice.

“And we wouldn’t let you even if you tried,” Courfeyrac added firmly, arms tightening slightly as if to prove a point.

He collapsed against Combeferre, his relief so great that he felt dizzy.

He didn’t have to go back.

Tbc…


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've moved back to school, and I wanted to get the first part of my Les Mis/Sailor Moon story up. Hope it was worth the wait.

Somehow, he ended up sandwiched between Courfeyrac and Combeferre on the living room couch. He had long since exhausted his tears, but kept his face pressed into Combeferre’s shirt, not really knowing how to look at the two of them yet.

For their parts, though, they both seemed content to hold him between them, two pairs of arms wrapped so tightly around him that he was not sure which set belonged to who.

They stayed like that a long time before Courfeyrac finally broke the silence.

“Why now?”

Enjolras glanced up and he could see Combeferre giving his boyfriend a stern look out of the corner of his eye, but he was glad for the question.

“I mean,” Courfeyrac quickly backtracked, not giving him a chance to answer. “I am very happy that you’ve decided to leave an abusive situation, don’t get me wrong, but what prompted the decision after staying with him for the good part of five years?”

“He wasn’t _always_ abusive,” Enjolras protested weakly, not really believing it himself.

Because looking back, Aiden had not been all that different in the beginning.

Sure, the first time he had hit him was probably somewhere near the end of junior year, but the emotional and manipulative stuff? That had been present since nearly day one.

And he shuddered to think about their first sexual encounter. Was it really consensual if he felt like he had no choice?

“Last night was just… too much,” he continued into the expectant silence.

“How badly are you injured?” Combeferre asked in a no-nonsense voice.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, not wanting to worry them anymore than he already had. Besides, he had had worse.

“Enjolras, haven’t you lied to us enough?” Courfeyrac said in a sad voice, causing him to wince in guilt. “Where are you hurt?”

“My upper body,” he admitted softly, unable to meet either of their eyes. “He punched my stomach and chest a bit and then kicked me in the back. He may have choked me a little somewhere between the slaps to the face…”

He bit his lip, trying to fight back the tears and hoping they wouldn’t press him for anything else.

“Is that all?” Combeferre asked, dashing his hopes with an oddly tight voice. Enjolras dared a peek at him and could see the difficulty his best friend was having in keeping the anger off of his face. He looked back down and stayed quiet. “Enjolras, is that all?” he repeated with a slightly apprehensive edge.

He closed his eyes and let the tears that had been threatening fall. “’Ferre, he… he… God, I can’t…”

“Enjolras, did he… rape you?” Courfeyrac asked hesitantly. He twisted around slightly to catch sight of his face and hated himself when he saw the tears streaming down his friend’s face.

He didn’t know how to answer that. He still wasn’t sure if what happened had been rape. It’s not like he would have denied Aiden if he had asked for permission. He never denied Aiden. He was always too afraid to.

Maybe he just didn’t want to admit that last night hadn’t really been the first time Aiden had raped him.

“Oh, E,” Courfeyrac murmured, his trembling seemingly answer enough.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Combeferre stated, pulling away from their three-way embrace and moving to stand.

Enjolras reached out desperately and grabbed his sleeve. “No, ‘Ferre, please. I’m fine.”

He shook his head in response. “You are not _fine_ , Enjolras,” he said calmly but emphatically. “You were beaten and raped last night, and you have been abused so badly for the past year that you were afraid to see us. You could have broken ribs or internal bleeding or a concussion or a number of other things that I cannot even bare to think of. If you care about us at all, you will allow us to look after you and make sure you’re okay.”

Enjolras nodded in resignation, knowing he could not deny them anything after putting them through this. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, “I am sorry for being a burden on you.”

“You are _not_ a burden,” Courfeyrac said savagely, pulling him to his feet gently. “You are our best friend and we love you.”

Grantaire’s words from yesterday floated though his head. _You’re never a burden on those that love you._

He smiled slightly as he thought about Grantaire, and then frowned as he realized what the other man would surely think of him now. Grantaire had told him he loved him yesterday, but the man he fell in love with was not the pathetic man he was now. That man would not have been so weak as to allow someone to do what Aiden had done to him.

He wasn’t even sure if that man had ever existed.

He allowed Combeferre and Courfeyrac to lead him out the door and to usher him into the backseat of Combeferre’s car. He closed his eyes as he rested his head in Courfeyrac’s lap, allowing the fingers running through his hair to lull him into sleep.

#

Grantaire was on edge.

Jehan, Eponine, and Bahorel each had serious expressions on their faces, though Jehan looked like he was close to tears as well. They had been extra gentle with their hellos before ushering him into his own living room and having him sit on the couch.

Now they were looking uneasily at each other while he stared at them uncomfortably.

He almost didn’t want them to start speaking because he was sure that he would not like whatever they had to say.

Eponine finally took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. “Grantaire, Aiden has been abusing Enjolras,” she said in a straight-forward but not unkind manner.

He blinked, his mind unable to process the statement. “What?”

“Courfeyrac called us from the hospital,” Jehan explained. _Hospital_. The word sent fear through Grantaire. “Apparently Aiden was particularly _angry_ last night and Enjolras…” he trailed off, fury burning in his eyes. “Well, Courf said his torso looked like one giant bruise.”

He stared at them as the words sank in. Enjolras was hurt, had been being hurt for probably a long time. _Aiden_ was hurting _Enjolras_.

How fucking _dare_ he.

He was up in a flash, moving towards the door with murderous intent, but strong arms wrapped around him.

“Let me go!” he growled, struggling against Bahorel’s hold. “I’m going to kill him!”

“R, calm down!” Eponine shouted.

“Bahorel. Let. Me. Go,” he seethed.

“R, Enjolras needs you to be there for him,” Jehan reasoned. “You can’t do that if you’re in prison for murder.”

“Then I won’t get caught,” he shot back, still fighting against Bahorel.

“Grantaire,” Eponine said sternly, stepping in front of him. “Do you really think that Enjolras will safe around you again if you react with violence? Hasn’t he had enough violence in his life? How does that make you better than Aiden?”

“I would never hurt Enjolras!” he cried.

“But you would frighten him,” Jehan pointed out. “Knowing you lashed out at someone else in anger, who could blame him for being afraid of making you mad?”

“It’s not the same thing,” he protested, deflating a bit.

“No, it’s not,” Eponine agreed. “And Enjolras would know that intellectually. But take it from someone who knows, it’s not easy to think with your head when you’re afraid of being hurt by someone who’s supposed love you.”

His anger left him then, and he slumped back against Bahorel.

All he could think of was Enjolras. Strong, caring, selfless Enjolras who wanted to save everyone from their problems but never remembered to take care of himself. Enjolras, who would fight passionately for what he believed in but would never intentionally hurt anyone. Enjolras, whose people skills were so bad he once thought a guy hitting on him was a homeless man in need of food.

Enjolras, who cared so much for his friends that he probably didn’t want to bother them with his problems.

Enjolras, who always had the right words to say, afraid to say the wrong thing in fear of being slapped.

Enjolras, afraid to do the wrong thing and being punched.

Enjolras, lying broken in a hospital bed because none of them were smart enough to put the pieces together.

“It’s okay,” Jehan soothed, pulling him into his arms and allowing him to sob on his shoulder.

“No, it’s not,” he said thickly. “I should’ve _known_.”

“Enjolras was very good at hiding it,” Eponine said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Grantaire pulled back from Jehan and glared at her. “Don’t you _dare_ blame him!” he hissed.

She rolled her eyes at her oldest friend. “You know damn well that of all the people who would victim blame, I would be the last,” she stated calmly. “I know what he’s been through.”

“Sorry,” he muttered as Jehan led him back to the couch. “Can I see him?”

Bahorel shook his head. “’Ferre and Courf have him in the ER getting checked out.”

“If he is admitted, we’ll visit him. If not, we’re having a sleepover at their place,” Jehan explained.

Grantaire nodded and leant back against the couch. Sleepovers were a tradition for them. Whenever someone hit a high or low point, they would all gather together to celebrate or comfort and would just not leave. They had done it when Grantaire had his first major art exhibit, when Feuilly’s mother had died, and when Joly and Enjolras had been accepted to Harvard for medical and law school. Sometimes they only lasted one night, sometimes they went on for two or three. The longest one had been when Eponine had left Montparnasse, and that one had lasted five whole days.

He would probably bet that this one would beat that record.

He knew that he didn’t want to let Enjolras out of his sight ever again, and he wouldn’t doubt if most of their friends felt the same way.

#

Combeferre looked up as Courfeyrac slipped back into the room. He raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend in askance and he nodded seriously.

Enjolras had just gotten back from having an X-ray and CT scan of his chest, to check for broken ribs and internal bleeding. The doctor had already examined him, with the two of them slipping out discreetly when he had checked whether he had been torn during Aiden’s… assault.

He closed his eyes in anguish. God, he couldn’t even think the word. How could he have let things get this bad without him noticing? Had he been so caught up in his own life that he had neglected his best friend?

He felt like a failure.

He quickly shook those thoughts away though. He wouldn’t let either Enjolras or Courfeyrac see them. The focus should be on Enjolras right now. There would be time to work through his guilt later.

“E,” he said softly instead. “The police are on their way to speak with you.”

“What?” he cried, sitting up sharply from where he was resting on the bed and hissing in pain.

Courfeyrac helped him back down gently. “You don’t have to press charges if you don’t want,” he assured him. “But you should at least speak with them. If nothing else, you at least need a restraining order against Aiden. This cannot happen again.”

Enjolras just looked down at his hands in silence.

Combeferre sighed before sitting down on the bed beside him and carefully wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You know we just want you safe, right?” he asked. Enjolras nodded. “And you know that you won’t be completely safe until that man knows that he cannot hurt you anymore without suffering the consequences.”

“And in the meantime?” he said, looking up at him with tears in his eyes. “What happens once he’s released on bail before his court date? What if he comes after me? What if he comes after any of _you_ for helping me?”

“With the medical evidence against him, he might not even elect to go to trial,” Courfeyrac pointed out, settling down on Enjolras’ other side and placing a comforting hand on his leg.

“I just…” he began, closing his eyes with fingers clenching the blanket thrown over his legs. “I’m just so scared,” he whispered. “I’m so tired of being scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Combeferre promised. “None of us are going to let him anywhere near you.”

There was silence as Enjolras took in those words and relaxed slightly, leaning into Combeferre’s embrace. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to thank us, E, not for this,” he said, sharing an distressed look with Courfeyrac over his head.

“Never for this,” Courfeyrac agreed.

Tbc…


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. It's been a tough week at school that heralds the beginning of a tough semester. Thank you for all the people who have left comments and kudos! They really inspire me to write!

Courfeyrac was honestly a little worried that Enjolras would pitch a fit when they brought the wheelchair around to escort him to the door. However, the blond simply accepted the orderly’s help in easing into the chair silently.

To tell the truth, that worried him even more.

Then again, the Percocet they had given him was probably in full effect by now so maybe he was worrying for nothing.

Combeferre was waiting with the car when they got to the entrance. Courfeyrac helped Enjolras stand, keeping a firm grip on his arm as he swayed a bit on his feet. It was very hard not to laugh, though, when he stared at the car in puzzlement.

“How do we get inside?” he asked absently, blinking at Courfeyrac.

It was not fair that this situation was so serious because drugged Enjolras was adorably hilarious but Courfeyrac could not enjoy it knowing the underlying cause.

“I got it, E,” he assured, opening the backseat and holding on to an amazed Enjolras as he got in. He jogged over to the other side and got in as well, not surprised at all when Enjolras cuddled up to his side. Apparently drugged Enjolras was very tactile, which did not surprise Courfeyrac too much as the one time he had seen the other man drink, he had been very cuddly then as well.

“Alright?” Combeferre asked, looking back at them in the rearview mirror.

He nodded. “Let’s get him home.”

Enjolras was quiet for most of the ride. As they drew nearer to their apartment, though, he unburied his head from Courfeyrac’s shirt and looked up at him. “What did you tell them happened?” he asked quietly.

Courfeyrac sighed. It had felt slightly wrong telling their friends what had happened without Enjolras’ permission, but knowing he just assumed that they had broken his confidence hurt. But this wasn’t something they could have kept from their other friends, especially if Aiden decided to come after Enjolras.

“Only that Aiden had been hurting you and that this time was bad,” he said, hating the impossibly heartbroken expression that crept over his best friend’s face.

He leaned further into Courfeyrac and looked down. “He won’t love me anymore,” he murmured mournfully.

Rage like he had never known shot through him. How dare that little piss-ant of a man do this to Enjolras? How fucking dare he put _his best friend_ through so much fucking pain? That he had twisted and manipulated Enjolras’ emotions enough to make him think that not receiving that bastard’s brand of _love_ was something to be sad about made him sick.

“Fuck him,” he spat. Enjolras looked at him in mouth-gaping shock. Combeferre shot him a look that screamed “be careful” but he couldn’t let Enjolras keep thinking that losing Aiden was in any way a loss. “You don’t need his _love_ ,” he continued, his mouth twisting in disdain at the last word, knowing what that asshole gave Enjolras was about as far from love as you could get.

Oh God, now there were _tears_ welling in Enjolras’ eyes.

He wrapped his arms around his friend, hating himself for making him cry. Hadn’t Enjolras cried _enough_ today? He didn’t need Courfeyrac making him cry _more_.

“I love him, Courf,” he sobbed, voice muffled against his chest. “I don’t know how not to love him, I’ve loved him so long.”

“You don’t need him,” he protested vehemently. “You have friends who love you. E, we all love you _so much_. Can’t that be enough? You don’t need _him_.”

“Don’t want to be just friends with him,” he mumbled weakly.

Courfeyrac looked down at him in confusion, but stopped the question on his lips when he realized Enjolras had cried himself to sleep.

“I don’t think he was talking about Aiden,” Combeferre said quietly from the front.

His eyes widened. “You don’t think…”

“Grantaire,” he agreed with a nod.

Courfeyrac wanted to cry, wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. He wondered if this all could have been avoided if Grantaire had just told Enjolras about his feelings sooner, but then buried that thought. It did nobody any good, and if Grantaire ever caught wind of it, he would blame himself for how things turned out.

#

They were all already at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s place, waiting for the couple to return from the hospital with Enjolras. They had already made the necessary preparations. Copious amounts of pizza had been ordered. The Lord of the Rings trilogy, both Star Wars trilogies, and every possible Disney movie were stacked neatly next to the Blu-ray player. There were mountains of blankets and pillows piled everywhere. The only space on the living room floor not covered by air mattresses was occupied by the queen-sized mattress and box-spring, positioned in the middle of the room, that usually occupied the office/spare room of the modest townhouse. That was obviously where Enjolras would sleep, though Joly still had fretted about whether or not it would be comfortable enough given Enjolras’ injuries.

Which they still did not know the extent of.

The only reason Grantaire was not frantically pacing in worry was the very pointed look Eponine had given him after he had made sure everything was set. He glanced nervously at the door every time he heard a car drive past. He didn’t know what state Enjolras was currently in, just that it was bad enough for a visit to the hospital. It was hard to believe that he had seen the man _yesterday_ and he hadn’t stopped this from happening.

God, he should’ve fucking _known_.

This was why Enjolras didn’t have money for lunch. Aiden had apparently been fucking _starving_ him. And of _course_ he had freaked out with Grantaire told him he was in love with him.

The other person who was supposedly “in love” with him showed it by beating the shit out of him.

He closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing calm. Hyperventilating right now would not help anything.

He needed a fucking drink _so bad_ right now.

His friends, bless them, understood how close he was to relapsing without him saying a word, which was probably why none of them had suggested alcohol at their sleepover.

Normally, he was fine being around his friends while they were drinking. His problems shouldn’t stop them from having fun, after all. Tonight, though, he knew he couldn’t handle it.

Before he was desperate enough to start digging through the kitchen cabinets to find the alcohol he was sure the couple kept, the door opened and Courfeyrac was struggling to help a woozy-looking Enjolras walk in.

Courfeyrac’s eyes met his. “A little help?”

He was up in a flash and wrapping an arm around Enjolras waist to take most of his weight from Courfeyrac. Enjolras stumbled into him and threw both arms around his neck, burying his face in his neck.

He gave a questioning look to Courfeyrac, who just shrugged. “Percocet apparently makes him clingy. Combeferre has gone to get his prescription filled.”

Grantaire just nodded and half-carried Enjolras to the nest Cosette and Jehan had built him on the mattress. He attempted to pull away, but Enjolras only tightened his grip on him. Not really wanting to let go of clinging blond anyway, he settled down beside him and let him curl into his arms, the drugs and the no-doubt emotional toil of the day lulling him back to sleep.

It said something about the amount of fear and worry everyone in the room was feeling that none of them bothered to speak as they watched Enjolras sleep on, each relieved that he was safe with them and each concerned with what would happen now.

It was Combeferre’s return that finally prompted the tense silence to be broken.

“How bad?” Eponine said, the only one brave enough to ask the question that was on all of their minds. Grantaire knew she was probably taking this badly as well, kicking herself for not seeing the warning signs she felt she, of all people, should recognize. He hoped Feuilly was up to the task of comforting her.

He couldn’t focus on anyone but Enjolras right now.

“Bad,” Combeferre answered with a long-suffering sigh. “He hasn’t told us much, but I think this has been going on for… God, probably their whole relationship,” he said, voice breaking at the end. Courfeyrac grabbed his hand and squeezed, his eyes reflecting his own anguish.

Grantaire carefully shifted his arms to hold Enjolras more securely, eyes closing in pain as he buried his nose in golden curls. Why hadn’t he seen it? How could he have missed the suffering of the man he claimed to love?

“Last night things… escalated,” Courfeyrac explained, choosing his words carefully in a way that caused Grantaire’s heart to clench with the thought of what they meant. “To the point where he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

The only thing keeping him from going out and murdering Aiden was the man snoring lightly in his arms. Even if it meant his own death, he swore that no one would ever hurt his Apollo again.

“Should we contact the police?” Jehan asked quietly.

Combeferre shook his head. “Enjolras spoke with them at the hospital. He’s already agreed to press charges.”

“Daddy already promised to have a couple officers outside for as long as Enjolras is here, in case Aiden comes looking,” Cosette volunteered.

Grantaire frowned at the thought of that bastard coming for Enjolras, but was glad Cosette had thought ahead.

“What can we do though?” Marius asked, as always eager to help but not really knowing what to do in this situation.

None of them did, really. Eponine’s situation had been bad, but not as bad as this. They had been at a loss then as well.

“We need to treat him as normally as possible,” Eponine replied, commanding the attention of the entire room. “Starting with putting a movie on so he doesn’t wake up to us sitting here watching him sleep creepily.”

Courfeyrac hastened to do as she said, popping Star Wars into the Blu-ray player while Combeferre made sure everyone had pizza and drinks. Everyone settled quickly, none of them really at ease but trying to at least pretend in case Enjolras woke up.

Grantaire forced himself to relax and moved to shift further away from the sleeping man, not wanting him to feel crowded when he woke up. Enjolras, though, was as stubborn in slumber as he was awake and tightened his grip on Grantaire’s shirt and burrowed closer to his warmth.

Seeing that moving away was no use and praying Enjolras was as comfortable with their positions awake as he was asleep, he settled down to watch the movie, keeping more of an eye on the man in his arms, though, than the screen.

#

Rough hands pinned him to the floor, smashing his face into the carpet as his pants were ripped down.

 _“No one’s ever going to want you again,”_ a hateful voice hissed into his ear, causing him to cry out in despair and desperately try to kick his attacker away.

No, he would not let him do this. Not again.

The voice just laughed as he struggled, the blunt head of his attacker’s arousal pressing against his entrance.

 

He woke with a gasp, tears streaming down his face. He panicked as he felt the arms holding him close to a body but calmed instantly as a gentle hand ran through his hair and a familiar voice made soothing sounds.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, Apollo.”

He looked up and nearly had a heart attack when the motion caused his face to be only a few inches from Grantaire’s concerned one. He pulled back slightly and glanced around the room. Everyone was present, but they all seemed to be too engrossed in watching Darth Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi clash on screen to notice him waking up.

Seemed to be being the operative phrase, as he was sure all of them had noticed and were trying to not draw attention to him.

He was grateful for them at least trying.

He blushed as he realized how tightly he had wound himself around Grantaire. He moved to untangle himself but hissed in pain at the movement, the meds given to him at the hospital having apparently worn off.

Combeferre was suddenly at his side, holding two pills and a bottle of water out to him. With supreme effort, he took the pills and used the water to wash them down. Exhausted he collapsed back against Grantaire, not having the energy to care to hide how much he needed to be held by the artist.

He knew questions would come later. Knew that his friends deserved to know exactly what had happened.

Right now, though, he was content to bask in the security of Grantaire’s arms and doze as the Rebel Alliance planned to destroy the Death Star.

Tbc… 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has taken so long. My life is a mess right now, haha. Super busy. And this chapter was difficult to get out for some reason, but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you all so much for all your lovely comments and kudos! They really inspire me!

When he woke up next, Return of the Jedi was just starting and he was curled up close to Grantaire. He pulled away with supreme effort and sat up, knowing after the artist found out how pathetic he truly was he wouldn’t appreciate Enjolras clinging to him. Whatever love he thought he had for the law student would evaporate.

It was almost enough to make him want to keep his mouth shut.

He knew that he could. His friends wouldn’t push him to talk. They’d be curious, yes, but would give him his space.

But he had kept enough of himself from them. They deserved the truth.

As soon as he sat up, everyone stopped even pretending to watch the movie. He smiled sadly at them all as Courfeyrac turned the television off with the remote before Combeferre and he slid off the sofa to settle on Enjolras’ other side. The others all discreetly shifted closer to him. He glanced over to Grantaire as the other man sat up as well, threading his fingers through the artist’s, wanting at least that small comfort before he’d have to give it all up.

“You don’t have to do this now,” Combeferre told him softly.

He shook his head. “I have to tell you eventually. I would rather do it sooner than later.”

“At least take a Percocet first,” Courfeyrac suggested.

“I’d rather have a clear head for this.”

Grantaire squeezed his hand gently, obviously meaning to be reassuring but only causing his heart to break a little bit more.

He had only just learned that he had had a shot with the artist. Now he was going to lose him forever.

Courfeyrac grabbed his other hand while Combeferre reached an arm around his boyfriend’s back to place a comforting hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. Grateful for the support from the three people he loved most in the world, he took a deep breath before he began.

“It wasn’t this bad in college,” he said first and foremost, needing them to understand that he hadn’t lied to them so egregiously for so long. “He didn’t hit me until sometime junior year, after we began living together, and it wasn’t really that big a deal at first.”

The tightening of both hands holding his, though, told him how much his friends disagreed with that statement.

Eponine reached forward from her position near Grantaire and placed a hand on his knee. She smiled knowingly when he looked her in the eye. “Enjolras, weren’t you the one who told me after Montparnasse that it was never okay for anyone to touch me in any way that I didn’t want? Weren’t you the one who told me I wasn’t being overdramatic when he punched me for staying out too late with you guys?”

“That was different,” he said, looking away from her.

“Why because you’re better than me?” she asked resentfully.

“No, because you deserved better!” he snapped impatiently.

“And you don’t think you deserve better?” Jehan asked sadly.

Enjolras looked down guiltily, not wanting to answer the question when he knew the answer would just upset his friends more. He couldn’t hold back the tear that slipped down his cheek when he felt Grantaire gently pull his hand away. God, it was already happening. Grantaire was realizing how worthless he was and he was pulling away. He sobbed in relief, though, as Grantaire’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close instead.

He buried his face in Grantaire’s chest in shame. He had barely begun telling his story and he had already broken down.

“You deserve so much more,” Grantaire murmured, holding him tight.

Enjolras shook his head violently, reining in his tears and pulling away slightly. “I was stupid,” he said. “This whole situation is my fault. I should’ve broken up with him sophomore year. I knew I didn’t love him then. Maybe I drove him to this.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Courfeyrac growled, tears welling in his eyes even as Combeferre wrapped an arm around him in comfort. “Don’t you do that.”

“He was probably planning this from the beginning,” Combeferre reasoned, looking close to tears himself. “He manipulated you from day one, which was probably why you didn’t leave him even though you wanted to. I am so sorry we didn’t see it.”

That wasn’t right, was it? Had Aiden manipulated him into being afraid to leave him? Why hadn’t he broken up with the other man when he realized he was in love with Grantaire? That wasn’t Aiden’s fault. That was his fault. He was the one who hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with Grantaire.

But then, why had he pulled away from Grantaire and put distance between them? Hadn’t that harmed their friendship more than any love confession from him could have?

He remembered thinking there was no way that Grantaire would ever return his feelings and being afraid Aiden would leave him if he ever found out about his feelings. He hadn’t wanted to be alone. And he had felt that if he didn’t have Aiden, he would have been alone.

Which was ridiculous. All he had to do was look around the room to know that. Had Aiden somehow tricked him into believing otherwise?

“God, I really was stupid,” he whispered.

“No,” Grantaire said firmly, tightening his arms that, due to their shifted positions, were now hugging Enjolras from behind. “You trusted someone who was supposed to care about you. He fooled all of us. If you were stupid, then we were too.”

“None of you saw it because I lied to you all,” Enjolras protested, shaking his head and leaning heavily back against Grantaire. On some level, he knew he was being incredibly tactile with the artist, but couldn’t find it in himself to stop. If asked about it later, he could always blame it on stress and the meds.

“And then I started law school, and it got worse, and there were nights where we had plans and I had to bail on you because he had hurt me so bad I couldn’t move,” he continued, the words rushing out faster and faster and he couldn’t stop. “And then I finally get to spend time with you this past weekend but then he came home early and he was so mad. But he had hit me worse before so I don’t know why last night bothered me so much except I think he may have raped me but I don’t know because it’s not like I would’ve said no because I never say no because I’m always so afraid and…”

He trailed off as he looked up to see that nearly everyone had tears in their eyes. Jehan and Cosette were openly crying, with Bahorel and Marius doing their best to comfort them when they themselves were not in much of a state to do so. He carefully did not look at Combeferre or Courfeyrac, instead looking down at his hands, grateful that he was at least spared seeing Grantaire’s reaction.

He hadn’t meant to admit that much that quickly. Now that it was out there, though, there was no taking it back.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, not really knowing what else to say and needing to fill the silence.

“ _Enjolras_ ,” Courfeyrac said thickly, pulling him away from Grantaire’s now slack arms, which he was trying hard not to think of, and into a tight embrace. He buried his face in Courfeyrac’s neck, unable to look at his friends in that moment. “You have _nothing_ to apologize for.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he said, voice slightly muffled as he kept his face hidden.

“You’re going to go on with your life,” Eponine said firmly. Enjolras lifted his head to look at her, her determined voice brooking no arguments. “You are not going to let that jackass ruin your life and keep you from being happy.”

Feuilly wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, knowing that she was repeating a tough lesson that she herself had to learn.

He shook his head. “How though?” She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off. “I have no money, no place to live. I don’t even have any clothes! All of my things are at the apartment and if I go back there…”

“You are _never_ setting foot _near_ that place again,” Grantaire said tightly, deliberately controlling his breathing. Enjolras pulled away from Courfeyrac and hesitantly reached out to place a hand over the artist’s clenched fist, not knowing if his touch would be welcome or not.

He needn’t have worried, because as soon as he touched Grantaire, the hand relaxed and wrapped around his own, tugging gently until Enjolras was once more pulled close to the artist and wrapped in his embrace.

Enjolras relaxed slightly, happy to know that Grantaire at least didn’t find him repulsive now.

That didn’t really solve his problems though.

“Bahorel, Feuilly, and I will go get your things,” he continued in a more normal tone.

“No!” Enjolras cried, looking up at Grantaire in horror. “I don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me!”

Bahorel scoffed. “He’s not going to try anything even if he is there. He’s a coward that hurts others to feel powerful. He’d never start a fight he didn’t know he could win.”

Enjolras’ mouth twisted in self-disgust and he looked down. “Guess a weak thing like me was an easy target,” he said bitterly.

“Hey,” Grantaire said softly, tilting his chin up gently and forcing Enjolras to look at him. “You are not weak. If you were weak, you would have let him keep you from us altogether. If you were weak, you wouldn’t be here now. You wouldn’t have left him, but you did. That takes more strength than fighting back.”

“I should’ve stuck with the plan,” Enjolras replied, shaking his head. “I should’ve waited until after the summer. I should’ve waited until my fall loan money came in. But I was too _fucking_ _weak_ to stick it out.”

“Who knows what he would have done to you if you had waited!” Combeferre exclaimed, losing the calm demeanor he had been struggling to maintain all day. “God, Enjolras, if you had waited any longer, you might have _died_!”

“He wouldn’t have killed me,” he argued.

“Maybe not on purpose,” Courfeyrac said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “But you had three cracked ribs today. One of them could have broken and punctured a lung and…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, but everyone was stricken with its implications, Enjolras included.

“Where am I supposed to go now?” he asked quietly, not wanting any of them to dwell on Courfeyrac’s statement.

“You can stay here,” Combeferre offered immediately, with Courfeyrac nodding in agreement.

“I don’t want to impose you on you,” Enjolras protested. “You don’t need me intruding into your space. You have your own lives. You don’t need me messing that up. I’ll get a second job for the summer and figure something out.”

“We’re not going to leave you homeless, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac cried in exasperation. “And you don’t need the stress of a second job. For once in your life, you’re going to let someone else take care of you!”

He was not going to say that every time he tried to let someone else take care of him, he ended up hurt. First his parents, then Aiden. But he wouldn’t tell his friends that because he knew he could trust them. He had never really trusted his parents or Aiden. He had relinquished control to them in order to avoid the consequences that came with not letting them have their way.

Now, he was so tired of suffering. He wanted to let them take care of him, wanted to let them help him, but he didn’t want to burden them.

And he knew that he would be a burden, especially if they wouldn’t let him get a paid job. He couldn’t buy his own food, let alone chip in with rent. And if he stayed with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, that might even put a strain on their relationship and he _definitely_ didn’t want that.

“Aiden knows where you live,” he pointed out to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “I don’t want him to know where I am.”

It was an excuse, but it was also a real fear.

“You can stay with any of us,” Jehan added, as everyone else nodded in agreement.

He wanted to sneak a peek up at Grantaire, but didn’t want to make it obvious who he’d rather stay with. Of course, considering he was once again curled around the artist, it was probably pretty obvious as it was. However, he didn’t want Grantaire to feel obligated.

And it wasn’t just his feelings for Grantaire that drove his desire to stay with the other man. Grantaire made him feel more _normal_ , made him forget at times about the mess his life had become, but most of all, Grantaire made him feel _safe_ and _wanted_ and _not alone_.

Even Combeferre and Courfeyrac, no matter how much they loved him, always had moments where they got lost in each other. And they needed those moments, Enjolras knew, but those moments also made him feel so inescapably lonely.

He never felt lonely with Grantaire.

“You can move into my extra bedroom,” Grantaire whispered softly into his ear, as if reading his mind. His head snapped up to meet the other’s blue eyes. Grantaire suddenly looked uncertain of himself. “I mean, you don’t have to, but it’s your if you want it.”

“That might actually be for the best,” Courfeyrac jumped in to say. “Aiden doesn’t know where Grantaire lives and Bahorel and Jehan live less than five minutes away so that if anything were to happen, they could be there quickly.”

“And don’t even think about mentioning rent or anything,” Grantaire said. “My last two exhibits did very well, and now that I don’t blow money on booze anymore, my bank account is more than capable of supporting both of us for more than a few months.”

“But—”

Grantaire lightly placed a finger against his lips to cut off his protest. “Only argue if you don’t feel comfortable or safe staying at my place. If it’s about money, don’t bother. That is already settled.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes in exasperation, a familiar feeling that often came with argument with Grantaire, and one he was grateful for.

“Now will you take your meds and get some rest?” Combeferre asked gently. “You’ve been wincing in pain since you woke up.”

Enjolras nodded in compliance and took the pills and water when offered. He let Grantaire ease him back down onto the mattress before weakly tugging on his arm to get him to lay down with him. He sighed as he curled against the artist once more.

It was difficult for him to understand why he had been so afraid of losing everything once he stopped hiding what was happening, especially now as Courfeyrac scooted up behind him to spoon him from behind, and he felt what was probably Combeferre’s arm settle over both of them. He heard more than saw their other friends find comfortable positions near him as well, and smiled sleepily in contentment.

He still wasn’t sure what was going to happen now. And he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep his feelings from Grantaire if he was living with the other man. But things would be better now.

They had to be.

Tbc…


	8. Chapter Eight

He gasped awake the next morning, sandwiched between Combeferre and Courfeyrac, both of who were already awake. Courfeyrac was watching some show Enjolras wasn’t familiar with, cradling his injured body gently against his body. Combeferre was propped against his boyfriend shoulder, reading a book and stroking Enjolras’ hair absently.

He sighed as he relaxed between the two of them, already forgetting the nightmare that had jerked him out of his sleep.

“Are you hungry?” Courfeyrac asked, turning his attention to Enjolras now that he was awake.

“No,” he said automatically only to be betrayed by a growl coming from his stomach.

Combeferre sighed and closed his book. “Enjolras, please be honest with us about how you’re feeling. If we can’t trust you to tell us you’re hungry, how are we supposed to trust you to tell us when you’re in pain?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, not meeting their eyes and feeling the mattress shift as Combeferre stood up, no doubt to get some food for him. “I guess I’m just used to ignoring those things.”

Jehan slid smoothly into the space left by Combeferre and carefully wrapped his arms around the blond.  “Why did you have to ignore when you were hungry?” he asked gently.

Enjolras bit his lip. He promised himself that he wouldn’t keep anything from his friends, but he didn’t want to upset them. And he knew that the truth would probably break Jehan’s heart.

But more lying, even by omission, would probably hurt them all as well.

“Aiden only gave me so much money for food,” he explained. “It was never really enough for three meals a day. It was okay, though, because I never really ate breakfast and there’s always free food at the law school so all I really needed was stuff for dinner and I usually had enough for bread and peanut butter at least.”

“Oh, E…” Jehan said, tears sparkling in his eyes, laying his head gently down to rest on his stomach.

“Well, as God as my witness, you will never go hungry again,” Courfeyrac vowed, grinning as Enjolras rolled his eyes at him.

“Thank you, Scarlett O’Hara,” he mumbled as Combeferre walked back in with a tray full of food.

“I brought your pills, too,” he said, placing the tray over Enjolras’ lap. “You don’t have to pretend to not be hurting.”

He took the pills without comment before digging into the food in front of him. He tried to pace himself. It was hard not to eat as much as he could as fast as possible. It nearly killed him to stop eating once he knew he was full, but things were different now. There would be opportunities for him to eat later. He didn’t have to stuff himself until he was sick in order to stave off hunger later.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, noticing for the first time that Jehan was the only other one there.

“Joly had a final that he couldn’t miss,” Courfeyrac explained. “Cosette and Marius went to see her dads to see if they had any updates about your case. Eponine went to the store to buy food for all of us.”

“And everyone else?” he asked, once it was clear that Courfeyrac wasn’t going to go on.

There was a long pause. The food in his stomach felt like lead as he looked from one face to another waiting for an answer.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Combeferre stated calmly. “They just went to get your things.”

“What!” he cried, nearly upsetting the tray on his lap and swearing as he caught it before it could spill. Jehan helped to steady the tray before removing from his lap and placing it on the floor. “They can’t go to my apartment! Aiden could be there!”

The thought of Aiden near any of his friends made him feel sick. And God, Grantaire was with them! No, no, no, no. Grantaire couldn’t be anywhere near Aiden. Aiden knew. He _knew_. Oh, God.

“Enjolras, breathe!” Courfeyrac called, cupping his face in his hands. “Come on, breathe with me! In… and out… That’s good… In… and out…”

He fought to bring his breathing under control, vaguely aware that he was on the verge of a panic attack. After a few minutes of breathing, he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Please, call them,” he pleaded. “Tell them to come back. Don’t worry about my stuff. Please…”

“Enjolras, they’ll be fine,” Combeferre assured. “There’s four of them and one of Aiden, who probably won’t be there anyway. I highly doubt Aiden could take Bahorel alone in a fight. Add in the other three and he won’t do anything.”

He shook his head urgently. “You don’t understand! Aiden knows how I feel about Grantaire! There’s no way he couldn’t, especially after Saturday. He _can’t_ be hurt because of me. He just _can’t_ be,” he cried, tears streaming down his face, which he wiped away furiously.

“What do you mean?” Combeferre asked in a steady voice. “What happened Saturday?”

“He found the text from Grantaire about lunch, and I should have shut up, I know. I shouldn’t have let him provoke me into reacting,” he explained. “I never let myself react. But I couldn’t help defending Grantaire when he talked about him. And he… God, he _knew_.” He cut himself off with a sob.

“Shhh…” Courfeyrac soothed, holding him close as both he and Jehan wrapped him in their embraces. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he sobbed. “I’ll never forgive myself if he’s hurt because of me. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Nobody does,” Courfeyrac replied fiercely. “And you most certainly didn’t. But Grantaire will be fine.”

“I feel like I’ve already asked so much of him. I mean, I basically used him as a security blanket last night and he’s letting me stay with him and now I’m putting him in danger just to get my things. God, he must think I’m pathetic,” he said mournfully.

“He’d never think you were pathetic,” Jehan said.

“Because you’re not pathetic,” Courfeyrac said firmly. “You know he loves you. He told you so himself. Do you think he’d lie to you?”

“No, but that was before he knew… everything…”

“Enjolras, this obviously is bothering you,” Combeferre reasoned. “It was on your mind last night as well. You should talk to him about it.”

He was quiet for a few moments before finally confessing, “I’m afraid.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Jehan insisted.

“Yes, I do!” he exclaimed. “He might say he loves me, but the man he fell in love with doesn’t exist because that man wouldn’t have let himself be beaten into submission by his boyfriend!”

“By that logic, we wouldn’t love you either because the friend that we love is the same man that Grantaire loves,” Courfeyrac argued. “What Aiden did to you doesn’t change who you are as a person, and it doesn’t change how we feel about you. We may treat you a little differently at first, though you can hardly blame us for being more protective than usual, but you’re still the same Enjolras we all know and love.”

“Am I though?” he asked, looking up at them. “I feel so different. I don’t feel like myself.”

“You’ve just made a big life decision,” Combeferre said. “You just need time to adjust.”

“Maybe,” he said uncertainly, not really knowing how he was supposed to do that.

#

Grantaire sighed in relief as he pulled into a spot near Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s townhouse. They had luckily managed to get all of Enjolras’ belongings into his SUV without running into Aiden, for which he was both grateful and disappointed. Grateful because he knew Enjolras would feel terrible if they had to deal with his ex-boyfriend.

Disappointed because he really wanted an excuse to beat the shit out of the bastard, a sentiment he knew that the other three shared.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he followed the other three inside, eager to see Enjolras again. He inwardly scolded himself. He couldn’t smother the other man, and being this worried about him after not seeing him for a couple of hours was definitely bordering on smothering.

“Any problems?” Combeferre asked as they entered.

“Nope,” Bahorel reported with a grin. “Got all of E’s stuff packed in R’s SUV.”

“Except for this,” Feuilly said, holding up a duffel they had packed some clothes and toiletries in. “Figured he’d want to change at some point while he’s here.”

“Aiden wasn’t there?” Enjolras asked urgently, eyes locking with Grantiare’s.

He shook his head. “Either he hadn’t made bail yet or he was at work or he just wasn’t at home.”

Enjolras sagged back against Courfeyrac in relief. “Good. I was worried…”

“Well no more worrying,” Bossuet declared with a smile. “We’re back and nothing bad happened.”

He smiled shakily at them and Grantaire had to fight himself not to push Jehan out of the way and reclaim his seat next to him. He wouldn’t smother him, and he would _not_ force himself on Enjolras.

He had had enough of that lately, he thought darkly as he settled down on the couch, where he had the advantage of being able to stare down at the blond unabashedly without him necessarily knowing.

Or he would have been able to, if Enjolras didn’t keep peaking up at him every few minutes, disregarding the bad daytime television Courfeyrac and Jehan were making fun of.

When Eponine came in, laden down with bags and shouting for some help, everyone but Enjolras jumped up to help, some moving to unload bags from the car and some moving to help put things away in the kitchen. Courfeyrac shot Grantaire a look before glancing at Enjolras.

Grateful, instead of moving towards the door, he sunk down on the mattress next to Enjolras, expecting him to immediately curl into him as he had been doing. He was disappointed when he didn’t. Instead, he bit his lip and looked at him uncertainly.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked finally, looking down and not meeting Grantaire’s eyes.

“Of course,” he said immediately.

“Do you still love me?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean, even after knowing everything, can you still… have feelings for me?”

He felt like someone had shattered his heart into tiny fragments at the statement. God, did Enjolras think that this made him unlovable? He really regretted Aiden not being at the apartment earlier. He wanted to wring the bastard’s neck for making this beautiful man think that nobody could ever love him.

“Of course I do, E,” he said fervently. “Anyone who would think that what you’ve been through makes you unworthy of love is an idiot and doesn’t deserve you. This doesn’t change you, and you’ll find someone who loves you the way you deserve because, Enjolras, you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

“I’ve never been completely happy,” Enjolras admitted after a pause. “First my parents, then Aiden, I think I may have been afraid of it. I mean, I’ve been happy, but there was always something lurking in the background. Maybe that was why I didn’t leave Aiden sooner. Maybe I was afraid of being happy.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I don’t believe that,” he said confidently. “You weren’t afraid of being happy. Aiden twisted you up so much that you believed you would lose everything if you left him. You didn’t want to lose the little bit of happiness you were able to get. But you’re free from that now. You can do what makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” he said, reaching for Grantaire’s hand and squeezing it.

“I’m glad,” he replied immediately.

“You’re not understanding, probably because I’m doing a terrible job at this,” he said with a shake of his head and a small smile. “I love you, Grantaire. God, I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry I was too scared to say anything. I’m sorry I didn’t leave Aiden sooner. I’m sorry I pushed you away because I was afraid Aiden would realize, and I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“Shhh,” he soothed, wrapping an arm around the now weeping blond. “Please don’t apologize,” he said, still trying to wrap his head around what Enjolras had just said. He loved him. Shit, he had loved him since college. If Grantaire had just _said_ something…

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered, tears welling in his own eyes. “Fuck, E, if I had just told you that _I_ loved _you_ , maybe Aiden wouldn’t have had the opportunity to…”

How was he supposed to finish that sentence? Beat you? Rape you? Isolate you? Shatter your self-esteem?

Self-loathing settled over him like a suffocating blanket. This was his fault. If he had had a little courage instead of drowning himself in a damn bottle, Enjolras might not have had to suffer the consequences.

“Please don’t blame yourself,” Enjolras pleaded. “If I can’t blame myself, you’re not allowed to either. Can you just… hold me? Please?”

“God, you never even have to ask…” He wrapped both arms securely around Enjolras, pulling him close and burying his face in blond curls. Enjolras sighed in contentment and rested his head in the crook of his neck.

“I love you,” he whispered sleepily against Grantaire’s skin.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

It wasn’t going to be easy for Grantaire to not blame himself for this, but Enjolras needed him right now. He could wallow in self-loathing later.

Tbc…


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast to write and is probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy! Sorry to keep you waiting so long!

Enjolras frowned as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Yesterday had marked two weeks since he had left Aiden. For some reason, he had thought that the feeling of his world falling apart would have faded by now.

It had been okay the first week. They had all stayed at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s, and surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t feel anything but safe and loved. He was rarely left alone, rarely not being touched by at least one of his friends, usually Grantaire.

It should have bothered him. From his research he knew that most abuse victims shied away from casual touches, especially this soon after escaping. But his friends’ loving touches could never be compared to what Aiden used to do to him.

Besides, Aiden rarely touched him without a purpose. There were long stretches of days when Aiden didn’t even acknowledge his existence, let alone lay a hand on him. If he wasn’t hurting Enjolras or using his body, he hadn’t really seen any use in touching him.

Even before the hitting started, Aiden bestowed each touch as if it were a prize, something that had to be earned instead of freely given. Each touch from Aiden had some intent behind, some ulterior motive.

Being the center of his friends’ cuddle pile was almost like giving a desperately thirsty man an entire lake to drink.

And then they had all went back to their own lives, with Enjolras safely planted in Grantaire’s spare bedroom, and he felt so _alone_ again.

Which was ridiculous. Jehan had come over twice already for lunch. Courfeyrac and Combeferre had been dropping in sporatically throughout the past week. Hell, even Eponine had dropped by to check on him, though he suspected she mostly was checking the place to make sure Grantaire didn’t have any booze stashed anywhere.

And Grantaire was with him. Grantaire, who had told him that this didn’t change him, who told him that he was still someone deserving of love.

But Grantaire still seemed to take pains to avoid touching him now.

He knew that he shouldn’t take it personally. He was essentially invading Grantaire’s entire life right now. Grantaire was sharing _everything_ with him. He should not, _could_ not, ask more of him. If Eponine was already worried about him relapsing, well, he wouldn’t put further stress on the artist.

A whistle came from the doorway. “You do wear a suit well, Apollo,” Grantaire said with an appreciative smirk.

He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t feel very much like a god or the sun,” he said regrettably. “I have don’t have the power of one or the brightness of the other.”

“Hey,” Grantaire said softly with a serious face. “If I know anything, it’s that you are never powerless. Even when you were stuck under Aiden’s thumb, you were plotting on how to escape. Mind you, your plan was stupid because you didn’t want to involve the rest of us, but it was certainly not the product of someone who was powerless. And you’ve always shined, Enjolras. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have caught that bastard’s attention. Don’t let him take that light away from the rest of us.”

Tears were stinging his eyes by the end of Grantaire’s speech. He wanted to step forward and wrap himself around him, but he wasn’t sure that was welcome anymore. And now that he had cut back on the painkillers, he wasn’t brave enough to take that chance. Instead, he swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for telling the truth,” he replied. “Now, ready to go?”

Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he nodded again. “You really don’t have to drive me to and from work. I am perfectly fine taking the train.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Grantaire said darkly. “I don’t trust that bastard not to be lurking around the courthouse waiting for you.”

“I doubt he’d be able to do anything around a federal courthouse,” Enjolras pointed out. “Or a crowded train during rush hour.”

“I’d rather not take the chance. Besides, maybe I like spending the extra time with you,” he said cheekily.

“You’re going to end up spending too much time with me,” he warned. “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Never,” Grantaire promised.

But with three feet of space between them, Enjolras wondered how true that statement really was.

#

It sounded terrible, but he was very glad to have Enjolras gone for eight hours every day after he started his summer job with Judge Valjean.

He most certainly did not mind Enjolras staying with him. To the contrary, if Enjolras had to stay anywhere, he would very much prefer it being with him. He would probably go crazy wondering how the other man was doing if he weren’t underfoot all day.

But God, he didn’t know how to act around him!

There wasn’t a moment that went by where he didn’t want to gather the law student into his arms and just hold him. He wanted to kiss that sad look off his face and tell him that everything would be alright and that that bastard would never touch him again.

But where Enjolras had been so tactile before, he had pulled back, being careful not to accidentally brush against Grantaire in any way.

Which was completely understandable. Of course it was. Enjolras had just escaped an abusive relationship. He was understandably going to be a little touch-shy for a while. The painkillers he had been on had probably let him touch them all without fear before, but now that he wasn’t relying on them, he probably wasn’t all the comfortable with touching.

Grantaire could respect that. He _would_ respect that. But it drove him crazy not to offer him a comforting touch.

He confessed as much to Courfeyrac over lunch on Enjolras’ first day with the judge.

Courfeyrac looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe that isn’t the right tactic,” he said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Enjolras has been touched starved his entire life,” Courfeyrac explained. “God knows his parents never showed him any physical affection. Hell, he was stunned the first time I hugged him. He always seemed so _happy_ when any of us just threw an arm around his shoulder, but you know I’ve never heard him ask for any kind of touch. It’s like he’s afraid of being denied.”

Grantaire’s mind instantly went back to the day Enjolras had asked him to hold him. He had looked so timid, so hesitant in the request. And when Grantaire had told him he never needed to ask, he had looked so damn _relieved_.

And here Grantaire was, waiting for Enjolras to ask for something he had already promised to freely give without being asked.

“I’m an idiot,” he said morosely.

“Well,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully. “First step of recovery is admitting it. You should know that already.”

Grantaire glared at him. “I was going to say I thought ‘Ferre was the smart one of you two, but now I see you’re just the smartass.”

He just shrugged unrepentantly. “’Ferre happens to like my smart ass,” he said lightly before becoming more serious. “Just be there for him, R. He needs you, probably more than he knows. Enjolras never was very good at knowing what was good for him. That he managed to fall for you anyway gives me hope.”

Grantaire snorted. “Oh yes, Enjolras sure knows how to pick them.”

He felt terrible as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant for the words how they sounded. Shit, how was he supposed to be of any help to Enjolras if he let his stupid mouth run off from him like that?

Courfeyrac was giving him a horrified and shocked look.

“I didn’t mean Aiden,” he said with a sigh. “I meant me. I’m not good at this, Courf. I’m going to screw up, say the wrong thing, and hurt him.”

His friend just rolled his eyes. “Of course you will. You think I don’t say stupid things that hurt Combeferre? Enjolras is not a porcelain doll and you can’t treat him that way. That _will_ hurt and probably set back whatever progress he’s made. He needs _normalcy_.”

“I don’t know what normal is anymore,” Grantaire admitted. “Normal for the past few years apparently has been Enjolras _lying_ to us and being abused by his boyfriend.”

“I don’t know either,” Courfeyrac confessed, looking down at his sandwich in defeat.

#

Enjolras smiled wearily as he spotted Grantaire’s SUV idling in front of the courthouse. His first day wasn’t overly difficult, but still, first days always sucked. He was very relieved to slide into the passenger seat next to Grantaire and head home.

“Good day?” Grantaire asked as he put the car into drive and eased into traffic.

“Could’ve been worse,” he replied, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. His breath caught when he felt Grantaire’s hand reach over and give his a squeeze. His eyes flew open and he looked at Grantaire in shock.

The artist, for his part, looked pained. “We are going to have a long overdue talk when we get home,” he said. Icy fear ran through Enjolras at those words. Some of it must have shown on his face because Grantaire was quick to reassure him. “I promise, it’s nothing bad and it’s nothing you’ve done. I’ve screwed up and I am going to make it up to you.”

He relaxed slightly at the words but was still apprehensive, cursing the traffic that made their ride even longer.

It helped, though, that Grantaire never let go of his hand, even when Enjolras’ grip became vice-like. It was a relief when Grantaire led him into his brownstone and to the living room couch.

“Enjolras, I owe you an apology,” Grantaire began.

He shook his head and cut him off. “No, you’ve been nothing but wonderful to me. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

He didn’t want Grantaire to think he wasn’t grateful for everything.

“No, I’ve messed up. You wouldn’t have been so startled by me holding your hand if I hadn’t.” He leaned forward and took both of Enjolras’ hands in his.

Enjolras couldn’t help but grip the hands tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t apologize. This is my fault,” he stated. “I thought you wanted space, thought you _needed_ space, but you don’t do you? I promised you that you wouldn’t ever have to ask for me to hold you, and I went back on that.”

He bit his lip and looked down. “I thought you were just trying to get your own space. I know I’ve inserted myself into your life in ways that aren’t very convenient for you.”

“No. I want you in _every_ part of my life,” Grantaire said emphatically, bringing his hands up to cup his face. “I _love_ you, and I’ve been doing a piss-poor job a showing it.”

“To be fair,” he said thickly, emotions choking him up. “I didn’t do a very good job at telling you what was bothering me. Pretty sure I promised at some point to be honest about my feelings.”

“Well let’s call it even and be a little better from here on out, okay?” Grantaire suggested with a smile, making Enjolras laugh. “Now, I don’t want to push things, but I would very much like to kiss you right now if you’ll allow it?”

His eyes fell close. “ _Please_ ,” he breathed.

It was chaste kiss, but Enjolras wanted to cry at the sweetness of it. Aiden had been his first kiss, his first everything really, but all of his kisses had been overpowering, dominating, as if they were being used to mark Enjolras as _his_. Grantaire’s kiss, however, was a gentle give-and-take that took Enjolras’ breath away.

He wasn’t sure why he thought that there would be fewer misunderstandings between him and Grantaire now, but he knew now that he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was sure there would probably be times where they would be at each other’s throats and they would have to sit down like this again and explain themselves to each other.

But that was good. That was how they had always been. Well, they hadn’t always been that great at the sitting down and working out their differences part, but that was mostly because Enjolras had been afraid to spend too much time with the man he loved while he was with Aiden.

Their relationship would obviously take work, but it was work that Enjolras was more than willing to do.

Tbc…


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! Life has been crazy!

Grantaire wasn’t really surprised when Enjolras slipped into his bed that night, curling up close to him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. And he certainly hadn’t _minded_ , as he himself slept much better after he had thrown an arm around Enjolras, pulling him close and knowing that the other man was safe in his arms.

When he woke up to Enjolras wrapped around him for the fourth morning in a row, he knew he had to say something.

He waited in quiet contemplation for the blond to wake up, shifting discreetly so that his body’s thoroughly inappropriate reaction would not be noticeable to the other man.

When he felt Enjolras begin to stir, he brushed a kiss to his golden curls. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” he hummed in reply before his eyes blinked open lazily. “Morning. What time is it?”

“Half past six. You still have plenty of time,” Grantaire replied. Briefly he wondered what college-him would think if he had known he would be routinely waking up before 7 AM, but once he had stopped drinking, he had found that he was most productive in the early morning hours. Something about the start of a new day inspired his artistic side.

“Good,” Enjolras mumbled.

“We should probably talk about this,” he said hesitantly.

Enjolras groaned. “Are you going to tell me that I am moving too quickly by creeping into your bed every night and that I can’t do it anymore?”

He chuckled in response. “Please, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what you can and cannot do. I think I know you a little better than that,” he said lightly. “But I don’t want to become a crutch that you can’t shake. I don’t want our relationship to make you codependent when that’s not who you are.”

“All our relationships are codependent, R,” he replied with a snort. “It’s probably not healthy, but we probably won’t be able to avoid that. Though, I guess it’s not really _co_ dependent when there are eleven people you are dependent on, but that’s not the point. And I’m _not_ using you as a crutch.”

“Are you sure?” Grantaire asked. “It’s okay if you are, you know. With what you’ve been through, it would be weird if you didn’t need someone to lean on right now. I’m happy to be that for you. I just want to make sure you can stand on your own afterwards.”

“I don’t _want_ to stand on my own,” he replied in frustration, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest. “That came out wrong. I just… I can’t…”

Grantaire sat up as well and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s okay. Take your time. Breathe.”

He took a deep breath and leaned into Grantaire’s embrace. “I stayed with Aiden mostly because I was more afraid of being alone than I was of him. The irony is I’ve never felt more alone than when I was with him,” he admitted bitterly. “I was alone until I met Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and I guess on some level I’ve always been afraid of losing all of you and being alone again.”

“You’ll never lose us,” Grantaire swore, tightening his grip and wishing he could hunt down and strangle both Aiden and Enjolras’ parents.

Enjolras gave him a soft smile. “I’m finally beginning to believe that. That’s why I climb into bed with you every night. I’ve always been afraid to reach out and touch, afraid it would be unwelcome. You make me feel safe enough to reach out because I know I won’t be turned away. So, no, it’s _not_ a crutch. It’s not something I need now to heal from what Aiden did to me. It’s something that I just… need.”

Grantaire’s heart ached at the hesitance in Enjolras’ voice at the end of his explanation. As if Grantaire would ever deny him something he needed. “Well,” he said after a moment. “If you want, you know you could just start out here at night instead. No need to sneak in in the middle of the night.”

The smile he got in answer told him that that was the right response.

#

It had been about two weeks since he had begun sleeping in Grantaire’s bed, and he could honestly say that he had never been happier.

Sure, he still had nightmares about Aiden coming back for him, but those nights were a little easier to handle when he woke up in Grantaire’s arms with the artist whispering words of assurance into his ear.

If he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that things felt _too_ good at times. Sure, he and Grantaire had the disagreements that were par the course for the, but that in itself felt _so good_ to him because it was so _normal_ , with the added bonus of being able to literally kiss and make up later.

And he reveled in the fact that he could have disagreements with Grantaire and know that he wasn’t going to leave him. He had spent so long being careful what he said at home that it was liberating to not have to worry about it anymore.

He knew something was wrong, though, when Grantaire picked him up one Monday from the courthouse with a troubled look on his face.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as he was buckled in, dreading hearing some news about Aiden.

“I got a call from a gallery in New York today,” Grantaire admitted with a sigh as he merged into traffic. “A spot in a pretty big show opened up and they offered it to me. They want me to come down Thursday and stay the weekend.”

“That’s great news!” Enjolras cried, confused at Grantaire’s stormy demeanor. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he admitted with a sigh.

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire, you will not put your career on hold for me. I will be perfectly fine by myself.”

“I’m not putting my career on hold for you, turning down one art show isn’t going to stall anything,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

“You turned them down!”

“Not yet, but…”

“No buts! You are doing this art show!” he said firmly.

“Enjolras, you know as well as I do that Cosette’s father said Aiden made bail and doesn’t seem to be inclined to plead out. Can you really blame me for not wanting to leave you alone when that asshole is out there?” Grantaire asked pleadingly.

“I won’t be alone,” he argued. “Jehan and Bahorel are right down the street, and Captain Javert has had a black and white parked outside your place for the past three weeks.”

“Not _officially_ ,” he shot back. “He can’t get a judge to sign off on a protective order because apparently Aiden has been such an _upstanding_ citizen until now,” he spat bitterly. “I still don’t understand why _his husband_ can’t sign off on it.”

“Valjean is a federal judge, he doesn’t have jurisdiction,” Enjolras explained. “But that’s beside the point. The point is that I can fend for myself for a few of days.”

“Will you stay with Courfeyrac and Combeferre?”

“If they’ll have me,” he replied exasperated.

Grantaire ignored him and continued to lay out his conditions. “And you’ll drive yourself, no nonsense about taking the train. I’ll leave my car for you.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure? I just… I don’t want to leave you alone,” Grantaire said, glancing over at him with a pained expression.

“And you won’t,” Enjolras said with a fond smile. “Weren’t you the one who told me that none of our friends would ever leave me alone? Besides, I’ll be with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Pretty sure Courf won’t leave me alone no matter how much I might want him to.”

“Fine,” Grantaire said finally, defeated. Enjolras shook his head. With the dejected expression on his face, you’d think Enjolras had just blackmailed him into agreeing to commit murder, not talked him into taking a spot at a prestigious (he was sure) art show. “But you’ll call and talk to me every second you’re alone.”

“Grantaire…”

“I’m serious!” he said, giving Enjolras a beseeching look. “Especially when you’re going back and forth from work. Please. For my sake if not your own.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “But I’ll do it for you. But you _are_ being ridiculous.”

“I’ll take being called ridiculous if it means I know you’re safe,” Grantaire replied with a smile.

Enjolras shook his head, but was silently relieved. He might act brave, but he was terrified of Aiden finding him, and he knew that the easiest way for him to do that was for him to lie in waiting for him at the courthouse.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach the more he thought about Grantaire leaving, but he refused to let it show on his face. Grantaire _deserved_ this. Enjolras was _not_ going to hold him back from that.

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short and not terribly original, but there *should* be only one (possibly two) chapters left, so bear with me!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. Law school has been a bitch. But it is summer now, so I should have more time to write :)

“It’s only the first night and he’s already moping,” Courfeyrac whispered to him, glancing towards the living room where Enjolras was sitting. He wasn’t quite brooding, but he was plainly unhappy. “Should we be worried about this?”

Combeferre snorted as he dumped the pasta in the colander. “Courfeyrac, you pout more when I have to go to work on Saturday mornings. I am pretty sure it’s fine.”

“Maybe, but we thought it was fine with Aiden too,” he pointed out bitterly.

He closed his eyes to ward off the guilt that welled within him at that. They had both discussed this, admitting how they both felt it was their own fault that they hadn’t seen it, hadn’t stopped it sooner. Of course, they had also each agreed that the other was being ridiculous. He had thought that he had managed to convince Courfeyrac that it _wasn’t_ his fault.

But apparently he hadn’t been any more successful on that front that Courfeyrac was with him.

“Grantaire is not Aiden,” he reasoned, opening his eyes and placing the colander of pasta over the pot he boiled it in. “You know that. You love Grantaire. You know he loves Enjolras more than anything else on this planet. You’ve been wanting him and Enjolras to get together forever. You’ve been _encouraging_ their relationship these last few weeks.”

“I know. And I know I’m being ridiculous,” Courfeyrac exclaimed quietly, an ability that never ceased to amaze Combeferre. “It’s just… he’s so sad right now. Enjolras should be happy. He’s been sad too long.”

Combeferre turned and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “The fact that he’s sad right now pretty much proves that he’s happy with Grantaire,” he murmured into his ear as Courfeyrac buried his face in the crook of his neck. “Now, let’s get some food in Enjolras before Grantaire comes back from New York to strangle us for mistreating him.”

“Don’t let him hear that,” Courfeyrac said with a roll of his eyes as he pulled away. “He won’t eat just so Grantaire will get home sooner.”

Combeferre chuckled. “No, he won’t do that. He worked too hard to get him to take the spot for that.”

Courfeyrac gave him an acknowledging smile before twisting to grab plates from the cabinet. Working together, they managed to get the pasta and sauce on the plates without mishap. Combeferre grabbed two of the full plates and brought them to the table. Leaving the bread and drinks to Courfeyrac, he walked into the living room, frowning at Enjolras’ vacant expression as he watched television.

“Enjolras,” he said, breaking him out of his stupor. “Come eat.”

He smiled slighted at him and nodded, dutifully getting up and going to the table. Combeferre followed after him, still frowning thoughtfully.

The problem was that he didn’t really know if there _was_ a problem.

Not that he thought for one second that Grantaire might be a problem. Grantaire would throw himself in front of a train before he hurt Enjolras. But he did think that maybe Enjolras could have been repressing his emotions about the whole Aiden situation while he was around Grantaire. Or maybe not repressing. Maybe just too happy to think about them.

Because he _was_ happy with Grantaire. A blind man could see that. From the moment they had confessed their feelings for each other, everyone was able to see the positive effect it had on Enjolras. Hell, the biggest fear Enjolras had, if his drugged ramblings were anything to go by, was that Grantaire would not love him once he knew.

He was probably worrying for nothing. So Enjolras was quiet and spaced out. This could just be how lovesick Enjolras handled separation from the object of his affection. Combeferre had not really witnessed Enjolras in love before (Aiden did _not_ count), let alone how he acted when he missed someone he loved.

The buzzing of Enjolras cell phone broke through his thoughts. He shook his head as he took a seat next to Courfeyrac, studying Enjolras as he checked his phone.

The fond smile that broke out over his face as he read the text, obviously from Grantaire, dispelled all his concerns.

He was sure Enjolras was going to be okay.

#

The street was completely empty as he exited the car, fear welling within him. The courthouse loomed in the distance, looking much further than he knew that it was.

He tried to walk quickly, but it seemed like he was getting nowhere at all, the courthouse always seeming further and further ahead.

He was panicking now. Where was everybody?

There should be cars in the street, people on the sidewalk. There was always a crowd of people at the courthouse at this time of day. People going to work, people going to court, but there was nobody here.

He walked faster and faster, heart pounding as the terror in him grew.

A rough hand grabbed his arm and wrenched him around. Aiden smiled horribly down at him, eyes promising hurt…

 

Enjolras jerked awake with a gasp, automatically reaching out for Grantaire. Panic welled within him as he realized he was alone in bed. God, he was alone…

He trembled as he pulled the cover over his head and clinched his eyes shut against the tears that were forming. He knew he was being ridiculous. He was at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s. He was perfectly safe. Aiden wasn’t hiding in the shadows.

But with the nightmare still fresh in his mind, he couldn’t help the fear that pounded through his veins. He wanted to get up and turn on the lights, but he couldn’t. He knew it wasn’t rational, but the thought of leaving the safety of the bed was nauseating.

He fumbled for his phone and was dialing Grantaire before he even knew what he was doing. He cringed as the phone rang in his ear, hating himself a little for disturbing Grantaire’s sleep but desperately needing to hear his voice.

“Enjolras? Are you okay?” Grantaire answered, voice full of concern.

“I’m sorry,” he cried softly, not wanting to disturb Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “I know it’s late. It’s just, I had this dream, and I woke up and I was alone. And in the dream I was alone and then Aiden was there and I—” He broke off with a muffled sob.

“Shhh,” Grantaire comforted. “It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. He’s not there.”

“I know,” he said when he was able to get his voice under control. “I know he isn’t here, but I woke up so afraid and I… I just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m glad you called. You know I’m always here for you,” he said, sincerity ringing in his voice. “Besides, I miss you.”

Enjolras snorted at that. “You’ve only been gone half a day and you talked to me on the phone for over an hour during my commute from work.”

“That is totally irrelevant,” he argued. “Besides, a man is allowed to miss his boyfriend when he goes out of town and has to sleep in a stupidly nice hotel room all alone.”

A thrill of happiness shot through Enjolras at the word ‘boyfriend.’ They hadn’t really put a label on what they were to each other, but Enjolras liked it very much, regardless of his past experience with the word.

“I will concede the argument then,” he replied lightly.

“Don’t toy with me, Apollo,” Grantaire gasped. Enjolras could just imagine him clutching his heart dramatically. “You never concede an argument.”

“Well, you better remember it because it will not likely happen again,” he said with a playful huff that quickly turned into a yawn.

“I’ll make sure you to do that. Get some rest, Apollo. You have an early day tomorrow. And call me during your commute to work!” he reminded.

“I will,” he mumbled sleepily. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Enjolras. Good night.”

“Night,” he said, punching the end button and placing his phone back on the nightstand.

He felt calmer after his conversation with Grantaire. The fear was still there, lurking in the background, but it was muted. And with that calm, drowsiness swept through him. He flopped over onto his back and closed his eyes, hoping to drift off into dreamless sleep.

However, he wasn’t even halfway there when he felt two bodies slip into bed on either side of him. Before he had a chance to panic, he recognized Courfeyrac’s sigh as he wrapped an arm around him and burrowed into his side.

Combeferre’s arm wrapped around him as well as he whispered into his ear, “Grantaire texted us. We’re right here and you are safe. Get some sleep.”

Smiling softly to himself, he took his best friend’s advice and drifted off into oblivion.

#

Grantaire was, for the first time in a long time, sleeping in. It had been hard for him to sleep alone in the first place, but after Enjolras’ late night call, he hadn’t been able to sleep even knowing Combeferre and Courfeyrac were with him. Instead, he had stayed up watching bad television until Enjolras had called him during his morning commute. Secure in the knowledge that he would be safe at work for a few hours, he was finally able to drift off to sleep.

So when the phone rang around noon, he jerked awake, a sense of dread welling within him. He glanced at the screen. Unknown number. Not comforting in the least.

“Hello?” he answered, trying to sound calm in case it was Enjolras calling from a landline or something. It would not help Enjolras to know how worried Grantaire was about him.

“Mr. Grantaire?” an apologetic female voice spoke instead. “I am sorry to interrupt your day, but there has been a problem at the gallery that is hosting the show. A pipe burst overnight and now the entire floor is flooded.”

Relief filled him, which was probably odd because he had just been told that his art was in a place _that was flooded_ , but he was just so glad that nothing had happened with Enjolras.

“How much damage?” he asked calmly instead.

“Your collection is fine,” she responded hastily. “We hadn’t set up your exhibit yet. We found a new location for the show, but we’re going to have to move opening night to next Saturday instead. Will you be able to make that?”

She sounded timid on the phone, and he had to wonder how many artists had given her a hard time over this. Probably a lot, he realized, thinking about how many self-obsessed artists he knew. Give them a little success, and it goes straight to their heads.

“That’s fine. Completely understandable,” he said, already thinking about how long it would take him to get to the airport and fly back to Boston. He’d probably be back before Enjolras even got off from work. He smiled to himself. “I hate to ask when I’m sure you’re very busy with this mess, but is there any way you could get my flight changed to the next flight to Boston?”

“I can do that right away!” she gushed. “Thank you so much for being so understanding!”

“Thank you,” he said, hanging up the phone and shaking his head. Poor girl. Probably some poor assistant used to taking crap from everybody.

She was efficient, though. He had just finished packing up what little he had unpacked when he got the email confirming his new flight.

He grinned to himself. He would be landing about half an hour before Enjolras got off from work. Perfect. Plenty of time to beat him to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s and surprise him.

He shot Courfeyrac a quick text before he was out the door and hailing a cab.

#

Enjolras frowned as he walked down the steps of the courthouse and listened to the voicemail message yet again. Grantaire either had his phone turned off or it had died.

He bit his lip as he walked towards the green SUV Grantaire had lent him. It was fine. So what if he was the one of the few in the vicinity. It was Friday. People generally didn’t hang around the courthouse on Friday afternoons unless they had to. There was nothing unusual about this, nothing to be afraid of. He focused on the car. As long as he could get there, he would be fine.

Aiden was not here. Aiden would not dare to do anything here. There was security _everywhere_ around the courthouse. Aiden wouldn’t—

An arm slipped under his jacket and around his waist. He barely had time to gasp as he felt the cold blade of a knife press against his side before the familiar voice whispered harshly into his ear.

“Scream and you die.”

Tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it was a long time coming, but the end is finally here. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Grantaire swore as he checked the time once more as he back at the still baggage carousel his bag was _supposed_ to have been on and headed for the door to hail a cab.

Last time he had flown to New York, he had been unable to fit his carry on into tiny space in the stupidly tiny airplane and had to end up checking it anyway. He had thought he would save time by checking his bag to begin with, especially since it was not on his tab. However, it looked like he couldn’t win for losing.

He wouldn’t care, if they hadn’t hit a rough patch of air, causing the stewardess to spill someone’s complimentary soda all over him.

Oh well, he’d just have to stop by home before going over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s. His late flight had already made him too late to surprise Enjolras before he got home from work anyway…

He swore again as he dug his phone out of his pocket and pressed the on button. He couldn’t believe he forgot about Enjolras’ call. He felt like the worst person in the world. He cringed as the display read three missed calls.

He quickly dialed Enjolras back, kicking himself for not having his phone on as soon as he landed.

#

His hands clenched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, but all he could feel was the blade pressed so tightly against his side that he was afraid to breathe too deeply.

God, how could he have been so stupid as to get himself in this situation? He should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. Aiden never should have been able to sneak up on him. Hell, it was like he had _wanted_ to be taken by Aiden. He wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking that.

Aiden chuckled darkly from the passenger seat, the knife shaking slightly in his grip and causing Enjolras to hold his breath. “Look at you. So pathetic,” he taunted. “Do you know how easy it’s been to watch you? I knew eventually you would slip up. Eventually, you’d be alone long enough for me to grab you without raising an alarm. I thought it would be yesterday, but you were on the phone. But now I got you, and you’re never getting away.”

“W-what are you going to do?” he asked, hating how terrified he sounded but not being able to help it. “You’ll never get away with killing me. You’re the first one they’ll suspect and—”

“Do you honestly think I care?” Aiden cut him off with a laugh. “I’m not stupid. I know I’m already going to prison because you couldn’t keep you’re fucking mouth shut about me treating you _exactly_ how you deserved.” Enjolras flinched as the knife dug deeper into his side, thankfully not breaking skin yet. “But if I’m gonna be sleeping locked away in some shithole of a prison, I’m gonna sleep in peace knowing that I destroyed you in every way possible.”

Enjolras breath hitched at that and he fought the urge to sob. He wouldn’t give Aiden the satisfaction.

“Now you’re gonna put the car in drive and—” The ringing of Enjolras’ cell phone cut him off. Aiden narrowed his eyes before nodding at the phone lying in the console. “Answer it. And act normal or whoever is on the phone will hear you die.”

He grabbed the phone with a trembling hand. Grantaire’s smiling face lit up the screen as he swiped to answer, the threat from Aiden ringing in his ear. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to live long enough to see what Aiden had in store for him, but he _knew_ he couldn’t put Grantaire through the pain of hearing him die.

“H-hello?” he said, putting the phone to his ear. He cringed at how unsteady his voice sounded and had to blink away the tears that formed in his eyes. Shit, he couldn’t do this. He was going to give something away, he knew it. Grantaire was always able to see through his lies. But would that be so bad in this case?

“Enjolras, are you alright?” Grantaire asked, worry palpable even over the phone.

“Fine!” he said, forcing himself to sound more normal and not entirely sure he succeeded. The tears streaming down his face definitely did not help.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer earlier. I was on the plane and my phone was off.”

“It’s fine,” he replied hastily, all too aware of the impatience in Aiden’s glare. “Listen, can I call you back? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Enjolras, what’s going on?”

“I love you too,” he said instead of answering, hoping Grantaire would understand that something was very wrong but also needing to say it in case this was the last time he spoke to him.

He ended the call and slowly put the phone down. He glared at Aiden with hate-filled eyes. “Where are we going?” he spat bitterly.

Aiden only smirked in amusement. “I have just the place.”

#

Fear like no other had overtaken Grantaire.

_‘Please let me be wrong…’_

He dialed Combeferre’s number, each ring causing his panic to rise.

“Hel—”

“Is Enjolras there?” he asked in a rush, not letting Combeferre get past the first syllable of his greeting.

“No, he hasn’t gotten here yet. Grantaire, what’s wrong?”

“Fuck, ‘Ferre, he has him,” he growled. “That bastard has him.”

“Where?” Combeferre said urgently, not bothering to ask how he knew. Grantaire was grateful. They would only waste time with explanations.

“I don’t know!” he cried, unable to think as images of what Aiden might be doing to Enjolras flashed through his mind. He felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. This _shouldn’t_ be happening.

This was all his fault.

He shook the thought away for now. There would be time to hate himself later. Right now, they had to find Enjolras.

“’Ferre, you and Courfeyrac call the police, then call everyone else,” he glanced out the window of the cab and frowned as he realized he was already almost home. “I’m almost to my place. I’ll call Bahorel and get him to take me to Aiden’s apartment. That’s where he’s most likely to take him.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Combeferre replied in a tone that brooked no argument before ending the call.

He quickly punched in Bahorel’s number, hating that the man he loved was in such danger and all he could do was make fucking phone calls.

#

Anger and fear fought for dominance within him as he turned the car off. Grantaire’s brownstone loomed in front of them. The place that had been opened up to him as a safe haven. The place that was quickly becoming more of a home than he had ever known.

Of course Aiden was going to desecrate it forever.

Anger won out as he realized that Aiden was planning to violate him in every way and then leave his mutilated body for Grantaire to find.

He would _not_ let that happen.

Aiden smirked at him before he got out of the car, obviously believing that Enjolras was too afraid to fight back but keeping a watchful eye on him as he quickly made his way around the car, knife flashing in the afternoon sun.

Enjolras waited for the right moment. He didn’t have far to go. If he could just make it to Bahorel and Jehan’s…

He flung the door open as hard as he could once Aiden was in range, surprised when he managed to knock him off his feet but jumping out of the car and running without pause. A hand grabbed his ankle, causing him to cry out as he fell to the ground, barely managing to throw his arms out to catch himself.

He tried to kick out, but his other leg was quickly grabbed as well. He gasped as he was dragged backwards over the rough concrete and clenched his jaw when Aiden straddled his hips.

Tears of pain pricked his eyes as his hair was gripped tightly and his head pulled back.

“You’ll pay for that,” Aiden promised in a low voice, before standing and wrenching him to his feet as well, knife back to being pressed against him menacingly. “In we go.”

He stumbled as he was forced towards the door, hissing as his left knee buckled when he put weight on it. He must have landed on it wrong when he fell.

Panic shot through him as Aiden all but carried him inside. He couldn’t walk. And if he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t run. And if he couldn’t run, how the hell was he supposed to get away?

Aiden dragged him to the bedroom he shared with Grantaire and threw him on the bed before straddling him once more.

“I think we’ll start with this,” he said, looking down on him with a smug smirk. “I think I’d rather like to have you first, before you’re all bloody and gross.”

Enjolras felt disgusted with himself as he just lay there and let Aiden cut away his clothes. But what could he do? One wrong move and he was sure Aiden would kill him. And if he managed to get away, what good would it do? He wouldn’t get two feet before Aiden had him again. Hell, he wouldn’t even be able to call for him. Grantaire didn’t have a landline and his cell was still in the car.

So he just swallowed down the bile that was threatening to rise up his throat and didn’t fight Aiden as he tied his hands to the headboard tightly with his own tie.

“You really are beautiful, you know?” Aiden said with a leer as he surveyed Enjolras’ naked body. “It’s almost a shame to destroy such beauty, but I am only giving you what you deserve. I’ve only ever given you what you deserved.”

Anger rose within him again at that. “No one deserves to be beaten and raped like you did to me, you sick son of a bitch,” he snapped, not caring if he provoked him at this point. Nothing he could do could save him now anyway. “You might have manipulated me into believing you before, but I know better now.”

Aiden’s hand shot out and wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly. “You know better, hmm? Something your artist taught you?” He laughed. “Tell me, did you let him fuck you in this bed? No? Guess he’ll never get the chance now.”

#

Bahorel’s car pulled up just as Grantaire was paying the cabbie. “Keep the change,” he said, throwing bills at the man before getting out of the cab. He made to run towards where Bahorel was idling at the curb behind the cab but something caught the corner of his eye. He turned towards the house and frowned as he tried to figure out what was bothering him.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

A green SUV was parked in the drive. _His_ green SUV. The one _Enjolras_ had been driving.

That son of a _bitch_.

He ran full tilt towards the front door, easing it open as quietly as he could, not wanting to alarm the bastard and have him…

He couldn’t even think the words, but it was best to sneak up on him.

He didn’t have to listen too hard to hear the voices coming from their bedroom. He saw red as he crept up the stairs and down the hallway. He had meant to stealthily approach them, but when he saw Enjolras tied to the bed with Aiden choking him, that plan flew out the window.

He rushed forward and grabbed Aiden by the collar and threw him off of Enjolras.

He turned back to Enjolras to quickly untie him.

“R, look out!” he shouted with wide eyes full of terror.

#

He watched in horror as Grantaire turned to defend himself against Aiden, who had managed to grab his knife once more and now was brandishing it inches from Grantaire’s throat.

He tugged helplessly at the tie that held him tightly to the bed, tears of frustration streaming down his face as he watched them fight over the knife.

“No! Please! Don’t hurt him!” he begged.

Aiden laughed darkly. “I’m gonna make you watch as I kill him. Then I’m gonna take my time enjoying doing whatever I want to your body.”

“That is _not_ happening,” Grantaire growled, using Aiden’s momentary distraction to wrench the knife downward.

They both gasped and stared at each other in wide-eyed shock, causing Enjolras’ throat to leap into his throat.

Bahorel and Jehan rushed in just as Aiden’s body fell backwards to the ground with a thud, knife buried deep in his abdomen.

All four of them just looked at the dying man in shock for a moment before Grantaire quickly broke them out of their stupor. “Call 911,” he ordered as he rushed to Enjolras again.

Enjolras was grateful when he threw the duvet over him before making quick work of the knot keeping him in place. He lowered his arms with a hiss, wincing when he touched the marks on his wrists.

Grantaire wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “I’m sorry, E. This is my fault, but you’re safe now. I love you.”

“It’s my fault,” he said shaking his head and pulling away slightly, though he hated to do it. “I should have been paying more attention, I should have fought harder, I should have… God, R, how can you stand to even look at me after…”

He broke off with a sob, and twisted to sob into Grantaire’s chest as the other man pulled him close once more.

“This was _not_ your fault, and I _love_ you, and we _are_ going to get through this,” Grantaire said so firmly that Enjolras couldn’t help but believe him. “We’re also definitely moving.”

He choked on a laugh at that and clung tightly to Grantaire until the paramedics came.

He was sure that this whole experience would haunt them all for a long while. But he was also sure that he would not let this keep them from moving forward and being happy.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I may do some one-shots in this series later on :)


End file.
